


One By One

by AraneaNemesis



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Levi Needs a Hug (Shingeki no Kyojin), Original Character(s), POV First Person, Slow Burn, Swearing, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 93,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27874513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraneaNemesis/pseuds/AraneaNemesis
Summary: Former Scout, former dancer, former Military Police operative : Victoria Feuerbach has an interesting past. Her present, however...Since the fall of Wall Maria, she's been living as a recluse, alone in an abandoned underground village. She does have a lot of blood on her hands, after all, and not only from the time before she defected from the MP. It doesn't help that she sometimes turns into a murderous monster, when pushed too far.She fully expects to live out the rest of her years removed from humanity, and firmly believes it is for the best.Until one fine afternoon, a girl falls from the skies. A girl who brings along the rest of her squad, and its leader - Captain Levi.
Relationships: Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 88





	1. Blackberries

**Author's Note:**

> Levi x OC 
> 
> This fic follows manga storyline. It starts right before the end of Ch. 51. A few events have been added but the main plot points and timeline haven't changed.
> 
> I hope you find it entertaining ^.^
> 
> Updated once or twice a week.

I felt it before even hearing it. A faint whoosh. Then a louder whoosh.  
I was picking berries, one early evening: I’d never seen that many blackberries so early in the season. The world is not what it used to be, right? The weather was hot. Too hot.

I heard it – felt it. A wisp of wind. A branch cracking. An… _unbalance_ in the treetops.

I got up and crushed the berries I was holding in my hand; my fist had closed over them all. Old reflexes. Not that I could have used blackberries as a weapon, but I cannot control the reaction, even after all those years.

The first cracking was followed by more and louder wood noises. Some poor tree was being abused, and I was fairly sure I knew what with. Leaves fell. Curse words, suddenly. I rolled under the thorny bush. Ouch.

A big thud, then more swearwords.

I reached for the basket and pulled it close to me, out of sight.

Whirring, whipping. Sounds I knew too well.  
 _What are they doing here?_  
They never come here.

I waited. If there’s one, there’s more. Usually. The cursing had stopped, not before I had identified a woman’s voice. A girl’s voice, rather. There was only groaning now. Pain sounds.

I waited. No other whooshes. Perhaps they didn’t know she was there.  
Damnit. Now there was sobbing. She was hurt, badly. I looked at my clothes caught on the thorns, at the purple juice on my hands, at the berries in the basket. Enough for at least five pots of jelly. I could keep two and sell the rest and wouldn’t have to dance for food.

There was a sharp cry, and more sobbing.

_Damn. It._

I could have left.  
I could have grabbed my basket full of berries, crawled out of the thicket on the other side, and walked back home. Nobody would have known.

 **_I_ ** _would have known._

I didn’t leave. Instead, I extracted myself from the bush, breaking a few branches, and walked towards the sobbing.

On the ground, in a tangle of wire, branches and leaves, was a girl. Not eighteen yet. Far from it. _That_ hadn’t changed… She was sprawled out, shivering in the grass.

I observed her from behind a thick tree trunk. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, crying, calling for her mother. She must have hit her head, perhaps she even had a concussion; if nobody came for her, she was done for.

I could have left her.

\---

The girl saw a woman slowly walking towards her. She didn’t recognize who this person was; she wasn’t wearing a uniform. Long curly brown hair, a grey dress. The girl heard soft words that she didn’t really understand, felt a cold hand on her forehead, and lost consciousness again.

The woman put a hand on the girl’s forehead, pushing dirty strands of hair from her juvenile face.

“Shhhh, it’s alright. You’re safe with me, I won’t hurt you.”

The woman whipped her head up, hearing several sounds at the same time.

\---

The ground was shaking.

_Fuck, no._

The next second, I heard some yelling, a deep trembling, and the entire forest shook. Then silence again, but not for very long.

Eight whooshes. I felt my hair whipping my face.

“Don’t move,” someone said.

_I could have left her._

I raised my hands in the air and look up. Eight, I could still hear right. And I was in a sun dress, only a small knife as weapon. No chance in hell I could make a run for it. The wind moved the branches. They had their backs to the setting sun and trying to see their faces I was half blinded by the last rays.

And anyway, even if they took her immediately, the girl wouldn’t survive transport back to the city. My place is closer.

And that’s why I’m here now, wondering whether I’m going to die.

Because I didn’t leave her.

\---

“I will not hurt her,” I say. “I heard the fall, came to see what was happening.” I get no answer; of course, I don’t. Still not teaching manners, are they? “I’m going to put my arms down now, ok?” I just do it, can’t keep them up all week anyway.

“You can come down too, you know. I am clearly unarmed. And considering what you just killed, I’m unlikely to cause you any harm.” Silence. “Hey, guys, I’m talking to you!” Oh, they’re already getting on my nerves. “Your friend here needs medical attention immediately. You might have been followed by… others.”

“No.”

Oh wow, a human voice. Man. No; _boy_. “No what?”

“No, we weren’t followed, they’re all killed.” _So fucking young._

“Good. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s dead tonight if we don’t get a move on. I can lead you to a safe place, I have supplies if you need them.”

“Thank you, but we will carry her back to Trost.”

“Of course. Closest is Chlorba, though, and she won’t make it, but suit yourselves.”

There’s a zip and one of them is finally on the ground. A woman, a goddamn grownup this time, the officer in charge, I assume. Tall; but then, I’m tiny. Red hair; glasses. She eyes me warily, kneels next to the girl still unconscious on the floor and examines her.

“She’s right,” the woman says eventually. “By the time we get her across the wall it might be too late.”

Three other zips, and three kids barely out of childhood join us on the ground. They rush to their friend.

The officer turns to me. “You said you knew of a safe place?”

“Yeah; about twenty minutes’ walk.”

“How… _safe_ is it?”

“Very.”

“How do you know?”

 _Because it’s buried under 150 feet of rock_. “I’ve lived there for the past five years.”

They all look at me.

“The… Past five years?”

“Yeah.”

I know I shouldn’t do that but it’s goddamn hilarious to watch them figure out how I am even alive.

“Outside wall Rose, for the past five years?”

“Yeah.”

And they’re drawing blades. Oh great. Why the fuck would they think I’m a threat?

“Listen; I don’t know what you think I am, but I’m not your enemy. I’m just a coward. I found a hiding place and stayed in it.” I get observed, very intently.

The officer signals them to put their blades away. “We don’t have much of a choice. If she wanted to kill us, it would be done already.”

“Look, we’re a long way from the Chlorba gate, even further from Trost, you have no horses that I can see, and she’s dying on the forest ground,” I jerk my chin towards the limp form in the leaves, “you look absolutely exhausted. And you’re probably all out of fuel. If I know this, you know it too. Let’s move.”

“We’ll trust you. For now.” Oh good, cause my dress is ruined from the berry purée and the blood, so at least I got trust out of this whole mess of a day. “But we have questions,” the officer concludes.

“I’ll answer all your questions once we’re not out in the open. Let me take you to safety.” _What the hell am I doing?_ “I have food and wine. You can all rest.” God damn compassion getting the better of me again. I will never learn.

The officer must finally decide that I’m not lying, or that my lies are not dangerous enough to them. She signals the rest of them to come down.

Boy; girl; boy, older boy; very pretty girl; boy? Girl? Eh, not sure. There’s one missing? I look up towards the canopy.

“How did you know he was here?” the officer asks.

“I heard all of you,” I answer, narrowing my eyes to try and see where the last one is hiding. Boy, apparently. “He’s not coming?”

“He’ll come down later.”

I shrug. “Whatever.”

The officer turns around. “You, and you, grab Sasha.” She turns back to me “I’m Squad Leader Hange Zoe, of the Survey Corps. I’ve decided to trust you. Don’t make me regret it.”

I shake the hand. Calloused fingers: just like mine were.

“Name’s Vic. Follow me.” I start walking towards the edge of the forest. “Oh, and if one of you would be so kind as to carry my basket; I’d hate to lose all of the berries. It’s by the bush over there. Thank you.”


	2. Earth's Embrace

I lead them to the West.

“Where are we going?” one of them asks.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Someone else pipes up. “There’s an abandoned village nor far from here, I think.”

“Your memory is correct,” I answer.

“So that’s where we’re going?”

“Yes.”

I’m not convinced I prefer them talkative. There’s so _many_ of them. Yes, nine is _many_. Now that their officer decided to trust me, they’re back to behaving like teenagers. I know there’s enough room for everyone to fit comfortably – more than that even – but hey. I cultivated social skills, but never had guests in my _home_.

Too late, I’m in this now.

When we reach the end of the woods, I hear a zip and an almost imperceptible but unmistakable thud. The last one has landed. A tree creature, perhaps. I don’t turn around to see how old he is; I’ll see for myself soon, but anyway I’m quite sure I know who it is, who they are. I might live in a literal cave, but I’m not _entirely_ out of the loop. I talk to people sometimes. And I used to know who was who, before I disappeared.  
Just my luck, rescuing a fucking elite squad. I hope they stay silent about my existence once they’re out of my hair.

We don’t walk fast at all, not with two having to carry the injured one. And they’re _really_ exhausted. I try to hurry; I don’t like staying in the plains too long.

Soon the first houses can be seen in the distance. Nobody says a word until we reach the village, and when we do, they just look around. Weeds growing out of the well, literal trees sprouting from destroyed homes, crumbled walls. Typical décor for this area, still not particularly nice to look at. Half titan destruction, half dereliction from the place being abandoned some years ago. And a background of it not being a nice village to fucking begin with.

“You _live_ here?” Hange asks, sceptical.

“Not exactly.”

We walk past the decrepit wooden stage raised in the middle of the village. There are still pieces of paper lantern hanging from the poles. How, I don’t know. I didn’t maintain _that_.

“What’s that?” a kid wonders out loud.

“It was the middle of a… festival when the villagers evacuated. They didn’t make time to take that thing down. Hurry up, we’re not far now.”

We finally reach the house. _My_ “house”. It’s a little less derelict than the others, but nobody in their right mind would elect to live in it. And I’m guilty of neither of those things.

I open the door and move out of their way to let them in. Nobody moves.

“It’s perfectly safe. Come on in, we don’t have all day, that’s just one part of the house.”

Okay, they clearly don’t believe any of this is safe.

“Look, you can go ahead and inspect it. I don’t mind. Just don’t take ages.” Can’t really blame them for being cautious, right? After all, they _are_ trusting a strange woman they met in the forest beyond the walls…

Their officer signals to two of them to go inside and have a look. She goes in herself, followed by a dark-haired girl, half her face hidden by a scarf, and … yeah, I was right on this one. Sometimes I _hate_ being right. Fucking Captain Levi. Smaller than what I had imagined, but I am in the presence of the best of the best here. Humanity’s fucking elite. I wonder how they ended up with no horses, no fuel, and an injured soldier in my corner of the forest.

I hear them walk up and down the house, opening doors, slamming stuff around. I let them.

After a few minutes – I lose track of time easily nowadays – Hange comes out.

“You… you live here _alone_?”

“Yeah. I’m not a fan of people.” And that’s an understatement, lady.

“How do you find food?” someone asks.

“I’ll show you. Can we come in? If I want to get things done before it’s too late and save your friend, I need to go inside my own house.”

“You said this was only one part of the house. What did you mean?”

“Oh, just follow me already.”

I push past her and walk inside. I go straight to what had been the wine cellar, move the rug off a trap door, open said damn door, and show them some stairs. So far, nothing surprising to anyone. I pick up a lamp from a shelf and tell them to do the same.

“You’ll have to share; I don’t usually have company.” I start going down the stairs. “The staircase is steep. Don’t fall, don’t drop your friend, don’t drop the lamps. And please don’t drop my berries, if at all possible.”

I hear them shuffling behind me, and giggling.

“I know not falling is part of your job description, but please, remind me why you’re here with me in the first place?”

I get no answer and start walking down the stairs again. Hange is close behind me, she tells the others to wait. Fair enough, I guess.

The wooden stairs take us to a small stone landing. From there, more stairs, metal this time, spiral down. We walk down, not saying a word, until we reach another landing, larger this time. The sounds from up above are already getting cushioned by the megaton of rock.

“Stay close to the stone wall.” I see her do exactly what I told her. Good, her suspicion is fading. I reach for the first wall lamp and light it; open the gas pipe a little more; I don’t need that much light anymore, but I want them to see where they’re going. I can always get more gas if needed. One by one, the lamps switch on, a long garland of lamps hugging the wall, linked to each other by thin pipes, casting eerie light on the stone.

I hear Hange gasp. Finally, the last of the lamps is on.

“This is it. My cave.”

We’re standing above an enormous sinkhole, dug by the river millenaries ago. A deep cave, reaching far under the earth.

On our left, stone; behind and below us, stairs. On our right – thick darkness.

The landing is wide enough for about four normal sized adults, but with Hange’s gear…

“I’m going down. Feel free to explain to your soldiers. Don’t hook anything in the stone, it crumbles easily here.”

She goes back up the stairs; I don’t hear what she tells them.

As I walk down, the outside world is silenced, cushioned by the stone.

It’s the first time in almost five years that someone else than me has set foot inside this cave.

I reach the ground long before they even start walking down the stairs. Not listening to any of their reactions, I set out to make some sort of bed for the injured kid. Hugging the stone wall, about twenty wooden huts have been built to accommodate families. Whoever designed this place had privacy in mind. There are two bath houses with wood heaters for warm water, but each house had a stone basin dug into the stone. The only really common area is the kitchen. Two large stoves sit in a natural curve of the wall, a few feet away from a long wooden table. I obviously only use one, but I’m sure the other will still work after giving it a thorough cleaning. One larger house serves as storage shed and pantry. Big pipes reach all the way up to evacuate smoke and steam; used waters run out too along channels dug in the ground, but I’m not too sure where, probably into the river. It’s efficient, keeps the place clean and liveable, and I know to think the genius who made this every day.

I’ve done my best to maintain the houses, pipes, and lamp grid in a decent shape. It’s hard work, but it kept me busy.

I pick one house, the furthest from the one I live in, and beat the mattress. Find bedsheets, a pillow; I’d wrapped everything in wax paper years ago, but there’s no mould or insects here.  
I go get a couple lanterns from storage and light them up. I can hear footsteps on the stairs.

Bandages, now. The oldest bedsheets will have to do. Away they go, as I rip them into long strips. When I walk out of the house, my hands full of torn fabric, I see that they’ve all made it down and are looking all around them. With the number of lamps everywhere on the walls and arranged on the ground, it’s quite bright in there. Not daylight bright, of course, but it doesn’t feel like a perpetual evening either. I can see them turn their heads, stare, blink. Only Levi doesn’t seem fazed by our surroundings. Guess he’s seen it all...

Hange speaks first. “How… What…”

“I’ll let you interrogate me all you want later, but there’s a priority here and it’s not the fact that humans will live literally anywhere.” I turn to the two carrying the limp girl. “There’s a bed in here.” Hange follows them inside. “Ok, I’m gonna need a little help here. I suppose you know how to operate a burn box. You have the shovel and rake and ash bucket next to it and the wood box is by the shed. Get it nice and hot for me, we’re going to need a lot of boiled water.”

They’re all looking at me, not moving. One of them, a small kid with short hair, turns to Levi.

“Do as she says,” he orders.

“Thanks. I’m not going to ask you to slave away all day, I promise. But we need to be fast for your friend’s sake.”

I go get as many buckets as I can from the shed. “Clean these the best you can and keep water coming. We need enough for two tubs. Once you’re done with the tubs for our patient, go tend to the fire for the bathhouses and fill the tank with water. Fountain is at the back,” I point at a darker corner of the cave. “It comes straight from an underground river, it’s perfectly clean and drinkable. Help yourselves as much as you want.”

Hange comes out of the hut. “I don’t think the bone is broken, but I have to drain the blood, even if it means she will lose a lot. She’s in pain and her body is going into shock.”

“There are dried plants and herbs in the shed, I’m sure you’ll find what you need. We treated a lot of injuries, and I’ve made sure the stock is always full. Take alcohol too, there should be some left. You,” I point at someone, “get the large pan and boil the strips.”

Hange grabs the small blonde kid by the shoulder. “Armin, do you remember when I showed you how to make a splint? I think her ankle is only sprained, but just in case.”

He nods and turns to me. “Wood box next to the shed, that’s what you said ma’am?”

 _What_? “Y… yes, but… don’t call me that. Just Vic. Really.”

He nods again and hurries away.

The dark-haired girl walks out of the hut. She looks at her officers and speaks, clearly despite the layers of scarf. “Her gear is damaged. Even with fuel, she can’t use this.”

Levi pinches his lips. “We’ll deal with this later.”

I dump more torn strips in the pan. “They have to boil for at least fifteen minutes. Bring them inside when they’re done.”

I hear a loud clang and swearing. Someone dropped a pan full of water. Of course, with all the running around now…

“Oi!”

The cry echoes in the cave and everybody freezes. Even I _almost_ stand to attention. Then I watch the kids get calmer and more efficient as Levi gives orders. He barks their names, that I don’t really catch.

“You water, you, fire for the bath house. You, with Hange. Take turns with what you’re doing, once the water is hot, go clean up. Don’t drag filth everywhere, we’re guests here.” He turns to me. “We will need more light to see what we’re doing in there. Can we take some of the lamps from the wall?”

“No, but there are more inside the shed. Be mindful of the oil, I won’t be able to go get more tomorrow.”

There’s now a rapid little ballet all around my cave. There’s something to say about the military… even if I could never really be a part of it. The one kid who didn’t get an order sat himself down next to the berry basket and is rinsing them.

Levi himself is making piles of gear and clothing, going through the bags. What in hell is he doing… I go to him.

“What’s this?” I ask. He’s gathering little square packets.

“Their rations.”

“Rations?”

“We need some for tonight and tomorrow.”

“What do you mean?”

“We eat rations, in the military.”

“Not under my roof you don’t!” That came out a bit louder than I wanted. A couple heads turn to us. Levi looks at me, his face unreadable. “I’m just about to go get food for dinner and you’re talking about disgusting army crackers? No, go do something else, clean the blades, clean yourself. You don’t like dirt, it seems.” I can sense that everyone is trying to listen to the conversation.

“We’re not taking your food,” he says.

“I offered. And I have plenty. Don’t worry about food today. Or tomorrow, for that matter; We won’t run out before a few days, and I’ll find more.” He’s still holding two packets. “Put those down.”

“Why?”

“Because… well if you want to eat them, suit yourself, but those kids are getting proper food. And a good night’s rest, once we’re done with all the water carrying.”

“No,” he whispers, “why are you willing to share your food with us?”

Are people up there even worse than what I remember? “Because I have a soft side or something. I see starved, exhausted people, I give them a hearty meal and a clean bed.”

He crouches back down and wraps the pile of awful crackers back in their cloth. “That's very... gracious of you,” he says.

“It’s the least I can do,” I mutter. He raises an eyebrow. Shit, I’m so used talking to myself. I can’t believe I said that out loud! I pretend I said nothing. “Alright, dinner. I hope they like potatoes and carrots.”


	3. Sweet as Pie

As soon as I produce said potatoes from the pantry, the kids flock over and offer to help me. No, flock is not exaggerated, not when one has been living alone for the past four years and a bit.

“Not a chance,” I tell them.

“What do you mean, no?” the tallest one of the bunch answers.

“Unless it’s to boil that goddamn water, none of you are doing any work until you’re into clothes that are not covered in sap, sweat and probably your own blood. Pick the houses you want to sleep in, make the beds, soak your uniforms. There’s plenty to do for yourselves before doing stuff for me.”

I sit at the table and start peeling.

“They’re not used to this,” Levi says.

“Nothing in this situation is usual,” I reply, actively digging an eye out of a potato.

“Hange needs my help.”

“The girl, the one who went in there. Send her out, or she won’t get water, nor food. I know the type.” I _am_ the goddamn type.

The captain looks at me, frowning slightly. “Her name’s Mikasa.”

I don’t answer and double my peeling speed, observing the comings and goings in my cave. It’s been a long time since this common kitchen held that many people inside it. The houses are going to have the surprise of their lives…

I watch them bring out clothes from the houses, sort them by size and state, help each other find what they need, taking turns at carrying water and bathing. The girl, Mikasa, walks out, looking haunted and half asleep, and the small blonde rushes to her, soon followed by the tall one with the green eyes. I’ll have to figure out names at some point… They give her clothes and direct her to the bathhouse, despite her protestations. Nobody tries to go before her; nobody lets her give her spot away.

Short haired kid appears next to me with the berries. “I’ve rinsed them the best I can. What do you want to do with them?”

“Jelly, initially. But how does pie sound for tonight’s dessert?”

His eyes shine in anticipation; I can almost see his mouth watering. “That would be…” he starts. “But your jelly?”

“There are more bushes out there. I can do without jelly. Now go.” When he walks away, his step seems a _little_ lighter.

One by one, they disappear into the bathhouse and come back out with wet hair and clean clothing. There’s enough water boiled for an army of injured teenagers now, and they end up sitting on the ground, not too far from the house where their officers are still tending to their friend. Only Mikasa has crawled away in a corner and fallen asleep, the others are restless.

“Hey now that you’re done, I’m good with you peeling vegetables,” I say, forcing a laugh. That should keep them busy enough. And I suppose they know how to make soup… I go get the flour and sugar for the pie crust. They stare at my hands, disbelief on their faces.

“Sugar…” the green-eyed kid whispers. “Where did you get it?”

“I have… ways of getting things I need.”

“Do you have a stash from… before? Or…”

“Nah,” blonde kid says, still working on his piece of wood. “There’s probably access to the Chlorba district from here.”

“There is.” Clever one…

“Then why stay?”

“I said I would tell you everything later.”

“It is later,” green eyes says.

Oh, he has sass. “True, but not everyone is here, and I utterly despise having to repeat myself. So, you wait.” They get they can’t insist on this one. “Who knows how to make pie crust? Also, there’s salted meat in the pantry, for the soup.”

There are delighted whispers. I know how rare meat is, just like sugar. At least today, they eat. Blonde kid looks at his woodwork and gets up to bring it to Hange.

“Sasha would be delighted,” tall one says. “You think she will be up for dinner?”

“No, that’s impossible. But we will save some for when she wakes up.”

“Is she going to be alright?” All those pairs of anxious eyes staring at me are unnerving.

“We moved fast.”

“What if she doesn’t wake up?”

Ouch. I can’t really play it cheery this time. “I don’t know,” I tell them, lowering my eyes. Poor kids. They’ve probably seen a lot worse, but still. “I’m sure your squad leader is doing everything she can, but I can’t say what will happen. I’m sorry.”

They fall silent.

“I didn’t even know what happened; how she fell,” green eyes says. “She was way ahead of me.”

“Accidents happen, especially in your line of work.”

Again, there’s silence. I can’t stay with them; I have nothing reassuring to offer and I’m pretty sure they’d rather talk together without a stranger there?

“Listen, you finish with the veg and I’m going to see what is going on, alright? Come and get me if you need anything.”

When I walk inside the house, I can _feel_ the tension. Blonde kid is wiping the girl’s forehead with a damp cloth. Hange is concentrated, and Levi is leaning on the stone wall, holding up a lantern. The kid turns to me.

“I’m sorry, I spilled what was left of the alcohol.”

“It doesn’t matter. Go back out with the others. I’ll help here.”

He doesn’t hesitate or ask his superior officers this time, and he scurries away. I take his place at the head of the bed and touch the girl’s skin. She’s very cold to the touch, pale and clammy.

“How is it looking?”

“Could be better.” Levi answers.

“She’s lost a lot of blood,” says Hange. “As far as I can tell, she should be fine, but there’s no way to know before she regains consciousness.”

“Can I get you something else?”

“No, it’s now a matter of time and replenishing her blood. First, she needs to get out of shock. There’s not much we can do.”

“When do you think she’ll be able to fight again?”

“Not sure.”

“Finally manage to train them and this happens,” Levi grumbles from his corner.

Hange sighs. “I don’t even know when we’ll be able to move her.”

“Let’s take it one day at a time, shall we?” I tell them. “She can stay here even if you leave. At least until she can be moved safely.”

They look at each other but say nothing. _You’re so very welcome_.

“Do you have other sheets? Those are soaked.” _And ruined…_

“Chest of drawers.”

Levi puts the lamp down and goes rummaging.

“Think you can lift her long enough with me?”

I give Hange a silent nod. The room reeks of blood, but not only. There’s fear, dirt, exhaustion, anger, sweat, metal.

Once the bed is made again, I tell them to go get some rest and a bath. I stay with the girl. She’s not older than 15 or 16. Means she enrolled at 13, perhaps? Not much older than what I was when I left my own family. Seems like a lifetime ago. It is a lifetime ago.

Her gear is in a corner of the room, neatly stored. I try to ignore it, but it’s too difficult. Impossible to resist, actually. Something I would have liked to suppress, after all those years, makes me get up and examine it. I pick it up, gently. Beautiful piece of machinery. The blades are heavy, but they feel perfect in my hands. My fingers close around the handles. A strong shiver shakes my entire body. _Put them back_. Quickly, I set everything back onto the floor exactly where I found it before I make a fatal mistake and ruin the life I’ve built here.

 _Noise_. My head whips around; but there’s nothing. I was sure I’d heard… felt… someone, right behind me. The hut doesn’t have windows – what would they be for? – but the door is open. There’s nowhere to hide. I can hear the chatter of the kids at the table, the water running in rivulets, the soup boiling. It’s starting to smell nice. They’ve probably figured out where the meat was stored.  
But there’s nothing else.

I pull a chair and sit next to the table, looking at the pale face resting in the pillows

\---

“What are we going to do?” Hange asked Levi, walking away from the table to not be overheard.

“I don’t know, we can’t stay here too long.”

“Why not? Nobody knows where we are, and we can wait until we’re sure our safe house is safe.”

“Wait it out? Our pursuers won’t find us, but our allies will try to send out searching parties, or worse, think that we’re dead. What will happen to our plans then?”

“You can go back, alone, and send word to Erwin.”

“We can’t really afford to wait.”

“Just long enough to figure out how to get to the mountains without being followed.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, then nods. “Do you trust her?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t understand what she’s doing here, but I don’t think she will put us in danger.”

“I agree.”

“But when you go back, you need to find out who lived in this village, if this cave was known, what 'festival' was there when everyone had to evacuate. I’m telling you; something’s fishy.”

He shrugged. “Ok, I’ll look around, see what I can find. But she’ll tell us, eventually.”

“Yeah,” Hange smiled, “I don’t think we can believe a word she’ll say about how she got here. What even is this cave?”

Levi looked at her. “There are underground districts under every fucking city, manmade or not. This one just went unnoticed.”

She stared back. “Oh. Yeah. I… Yeah.”

“She offered food. So, I’ll find out who she is, but for now, I think we’re reasonably safe.”


	4. The Ugly Lies

I must have dozed off because I suddenly feel a hand on my shoulder. Blonde boy is staring at me, wide eyed.

“Dinner is ready. Hange says we can leave her alone for a bit.”

I get up and stretch. I’m starving, today was not physically tiring, but emotionally? Oh boy, haven’t felt like that in a while. We walk out and the smell of soup and pie hits me. I don’t usually make those things for myself. I’ll throw a potato in the ashes, munch on some dried meat and nibble at a carrot, perhaps bath it down with some rum.

They’ve found plates, and cups. The table has been cleaned. One of them is standing behind the huge pan, serving others. I think I’m starting to like those kids.

“Found everything you needed?”

“Yes, thank you.”

I sit at the table and someone even brings me a full plate. The two officers interrupt their shushed conversation to join us. They’re both out of uniform.

“Should I understand that you think you’re safe enough here?”

“Reasonably so, yes,” Hange replies.

I taste a little soup. Should have shown them where I kept the spices, but it’s good. We eat the first serving in silence. They are obviously very hungry, and I don’t like getting grilled with questions when I’m eating. I can tell they are refraining from asking by the time they pass around seconds, though. Politeness only prevents them from blurting out questions.

They clear the plates without being told and bring out three beautiful pies. They haven’t had time to set and are a bit messy to eat, but they’re delicious.

“Well done, this is really good.”

Tallest kid laughs joylessly. “It helps that we had proper flour and enough sugar.”

“How d’you get the sugar anyway? And what’s the deal with all of this?” green eyes asks, waving his fork around. A cooked berry falls from the fork onto short hair’s head.

“Hey, be careful! I just had a bath!”

Mikasa speaks up. “And be patient. She said she’d explain.”

“To be honest, I would really like to know too,” Hange says softly.

I finish my mouthful of pie. “Very well. First things first, names. I might not get them right the first few times, don’t be upset. I remember faces, but not names.”

Each of them gives their name. Eren, Jean, Armin, Mikasa, Connie, Historia. She reminds me of my little sister, at the same age. I remembered that injured one is Sasha and Hange already introduced herself. I turn to Levi, who hasn’t said a word. I know who he is. He knows I know. Everybody at this table knows I know. Still, it’s rude. I smile.

“That’s captain Levi,” somebody whispers. The object of our attention still hasn’t spoken. He holds my gaze for a moment. Should I let this one go?

I should let this one go.

“Delighted to meet you all,” I say. Relief washes over them. They really didn’t want me to start an argument. “As I said, I’m Vic. Short for Victoria.” They don’t need to know my last name. “I’ll tell you everything about how I got there, and what I know of this place.”

I put the fork down and have a big drink of rum.

“I’m a dancer; a professional entertainer. I also sing and sew, but I make money dancing. For parties, for village celebrations…”

 _First sentence, first lie, V_. Excellent.

“About five years ago, when everything went to shit, me and my company, three dancers and five musicians, were performing in the village up there. It was supposed to be a three-day affair. We did the first night and the second. On the third day, word came that we had to evacuate because titans had broken in. But the roads were full. We had been informed extremely late, compared to other places, and we just could not go through. The mayor of the village mentioned something about a hide away, a cave. Most of the villagers did not want to look for it, but about 50 of us followed the mayor. He showed us this place. One of my dancers refused to go down, she went back on the roads, and I never found out what had become of her. So, we all grabbed our belongings, and settled here.” I gesture vaguely at the cave.

“I don’t know when the underground houses were built, I don’t know if the Mayor himself knew. He said it had always been there, since the Walls were created. Perhaps it’s even older. In any case, here we were. We brought the stoves and the table, and some food. Families claimed huts. We thought it would be temporary, that the wall would be soon repaired, that the survey corps would conquer our land back, and that we’d be out again in no time.”

I pick a berry up between my fingers and look at it, because at that moment I can’t look at them.

“I don’t need to tell you how wrong we were. After about three months, we sent someone up. They did not come back. We sent another. This one made it. Barely. He had run into titans, almost gotten himself eaten, but managed to escape.”

I pop the berry inside my mouth and bite.

“People panicked. They cried and yelled, thinking they were going to die in here, be trapped forever and starve. The mayor tried to reassure everyone. We can go out at night and plant food, he said. And there is a passage, a passage to the city, we can look for it.”

_Second lie._

“Some men volunteered to find it and did. They marked the way, so we could get out safely. The tunnel comes out under an abandoned warehouse on a dodgy side of the district, nobody would really see us. Everyone rejoiced. Why wouldn’t they?

But then we learnt that there wasn’t enough food up there either.

Back in the cave they came. Suddenly willing to try out the mayor’s idea. So, we did. We set out bells on the ground all around the village to be warned when the earth started trembling from titan footsteps, we built a vegetable patch just by the entrance of the cave so we wouldn’t have to go too far. We did everything at night. Water and space weren’t a problem… we didn’t have horses, they had all been taken by the ones who fled to Chlorba, so the fastest runners stood guard. I’ve spent countless early mornings peeling my eyes to win the gardeners a few precious minutes. I’m light, and _fast_.”

Third lie. No way I’m telling them why I was put on watch duty.

“We tried; we really did. But despite all our work, there was still not enough food. Things took ages to grow, were eaten by all sorts of insects and creatures, leaving them all day long without supervision. We couldn’t hunt anything, none of us knew how to. And traps? Same problem. Catch got eaten by wild animals.”

I push a crumb around my plate.

“The population got angrier and angrier. People tend to do that when they’re trapped underground and slowly starving.”

Someone scoffs, but I don’t care to try and see who.

“The mayor eventually decided that we had to leave. Some said they wanted to stay; I was one of them. If enough people left, the food we grew would be plenty. But most couldn’t bear living here anymore, in the dark, only going out at night. So, they set to climb out, and a handful stayed.”

Lies. A hot string of lies.

“Every once in a while, someone else had a breakdown and left. One by one.”

Liar.

“Until I was the last one.”

This, at least, is the truth.

There’s a long silence after my last words. Hange breaks it.

“And you _decided_ to stay here all alone?”

“Yes. I had enough food. Ironically, that’s all that mattered to them, that’s why they left the cave, and I’m probably the only one not starving.”

“Your musicians, the other dancer, they all left you?” Armin asks.

“Yes.”

“Of course, they must have thought you were insane,” Hange spits out.

“I can go out whenever I want. It’s a trek, but I can, and I do. I just have a secret, safe, isolated place to come back to.”

“But… it’s so dark, and lonely,” Historia mutters. She’s staring at me, pensive.

“You know, after almost a decade of having people in my personal space all the time, using my body to entertain them, it came as a holiday. At first, I was relieved, then curious of what I could do alone; and eventually I got used to it. I still dance, you know. Up there. Sometimes, on my terms, when I want to buy something with money.”

“I think I would have done the same,” Mikasa whispers.

“Don’t you get bored?” Its green eyes who asks. Eren, that’s what he’s called.

“Not really. There’s a lot to do every day to maintain the place. And as I said, I can always go to the city for a few hours if I feel I’m really losing it. Worst that happens is I talk to myself a lot.” _And lie to myself a lot, too._

“Nobody’s ever followed you here?” Levi asks.

“Some have tried, especially after a dance. But I make them stop.”

I sense someone looking at me. It’s Armin. Those wide eyes of his are piercing my soul. Can he see I lied? Impossible.

“That doesn’t tell us how you get sugar,” Jean mutters.

“That’s easy. I steal it.” They all stare at me. “I mostly steal sugar, rum, spices, and tea. Everything I can buy from honest merchants, I do, with the money from dancing. Bread, flour, oil for the lamps… But the rest? I find shipments going to the palace, and I help myself. I’m not exactly a fan of how they manage the whole thing. And it’s not like I steal much, even though I’m going to have to constitute my stocks again,” I conclude, smiling.

They’re still all looking at me like _I’m_ the weirdest one here, and not those who willingly go outside to confront titans.

“Thank you,” short hair says. What’s his name already? “For the food, for… this,” he adds, gesturing at the cave.

“You’re welcome.” I push my empty plate away. “How about we leave the dishes for tomorrow, stack the fire and all go get a good night’s sleep?”

Hange starts laughing, loudly, and it echoes under the stone ceiling. Levi looks at me, at the dishes, then at me again. He looks like he’s about to have a conniption.

“Erm, Vic?” Eren ventures. “I think we’d better just clean this. It’s… easier.”

I can’t help a smile. At least I won’t have to do dishes while they’re staying “Alright, suit yourselves. I’m going to sleep. I get up before dawn.”


	5. Harvest

The following day starts… normally. I get up at four, as usual. Make the fires, get a couple more logs from the box, throw some water to get it ready. Just in case. Go up the stairs, into the night, and work in the vegetable patch under the starry sky. The peas are wilting already, but I get three beautiful melons. Perfect. I always loved fruit.

Bring all of this back to the top of the stairs, head back out again. Every morning, I swim in the little stream next to the cave. I feel that I need it even more than usual, today. It will clear my head, help me process what I did, and how I’m going to proceed with the consequences. I faintly feel that I’ll never be able to go back to life as it was before I ran into them all… Even if they leave within the week. Now, to decide what I’m going to do about it… that’s another matter entirely. Perhaps it’s time, perhaps I could come out of this retreat, be in the world again; see my sister…

I peel off my shirt and loose skirt, kick the shoes in the grass, and slowly walk into the stream, toes curling over the smooth pebbles under my feet. The water is ice cold at this time of the night, and my entire body feels renewed by the sensation.

I swim until my arms are sore, and then some more. My left shoulder strains in protest, but I know how far I can push it. I swim alone, in the quiet, until I see the sky glowing pink in the distance. Today will be scorching hot again. The trees covering the hilltops are becoming individual shapes, and not just one dark blanket. One day, perhaps, I’ll be able to go for a walk in the mountains or the forest again without fearing for my life.

Time to head back before it gets dangerous. I have to prepare for the opening night of the show anyway. I’m happy I accepted the job, even though I haven’t danced that much in years. I’ll need the money to replace what they’ve eaten.

As I step out of the stream to dry off, I spot movement from the corner of my eye. _Fuck_.

“Who’s here?”

I slip a clean dress over my head hurriedly and close my hand over the handle of the knife I always carry.

“Show yourself. Or I’ll make sure we both die here.”

Levi walks out from behind a bush. “Unlikely, but who knows. Perhaps you could pull it off.”

Holy shit, he scared me witless. All the benefits of my nice long swim are gone, I’m all tensed up again.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Went looking for you. They saw the crates of vegetables and fruit, but you were gone.”

I wring the water out of my hair and ruffle the curls with a cloth. I’m cold, wearing a ow damp dress that clings to my body.

“I swim every morning after tending to the garden. Keeps me in shape.” He doesn’t answer. “Did you think I had escaped from the cave or something?”

“I didn’t. Hange wanted to know where you were, and some others got worried. Afraid something had happened to you.”

Afraid something had happened to me… Now that’s a situation I haven’t been in since… ever.

“I know what I’m doing. It’s safe at night.”

“Not really. We’ve seen some stay active for a while. Not very often, though.”

Oh, now that’s just _perfect_. “I guess I got lucky, then. We should head back, or I’ll catch my death.”

We walk in silence for a while. I’m almost starting to enjoy the sunrise when he speaks again.

“How’d you get the scars?”

“What? You saw that?” _What else did he see?_ “I had an accident when I was young. Shoulder got damaged. Still have trouble carrying heavy things with my left arm.”

“Good thing you’re right-handed, then.”

“Mh-Mh.”

_What a strange thing to notice about someone._

He doesn’t ask any more questions, but just in case, I stay alert, trying to steal glances at his face and see if he’s going to speak. Not letting him surprise me again…

When we get back, nobody says anything other than good morning. If they were worried, they don’t seem to be showing much relief in seeing me. Guess they only wanted to be sure I hadn’t run away.

They’ve taken this morning’s small harvest and stored it in the pantry. I apologize for the lack of bread, but leftover pie and some cut up melon makes for a sufficient breakfast.

The rest of the day goes by slowly; I’m quite busy getting last minute changes done to my costume before the opening night of the festival. I also make an inventory of what’s left to eat and decide that I won’t be able to do without acquiring supplies, legally or not. The kids and their officers mend their uniforms, tend to their gear, doze off, taking turns sitting next to Sasha, still unconscious. One of them found a little flute in one of the houses and is playing popular tunes in a corner.

When I sit at the table with my sewing and a lamp, I can see them trying to see what I’m doing. I pretend I don’t notice, it’s not like I’m being secretive about it, they can ask if they want to know so bad.

Historia’s the first to tiptoe closer to me and look at the fabric piled on the table.

“Excuse me”, she says, her voice merely louder than a whisper. “Did you make it?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

I get up and hold it up for everyone to see. “A costume dress for my show. I have three.” This one is black with bright red accents. Three petticoats, low neckline, corseted. Miles away from the leggings and loose tunic I’m wearing right now.

“What show?” Jean asks.

“End of harvest fair, in Chlorba. It’s usually later, but I convinced a tavern owner to offer entertainment starting now, to draw more customers. I’ll dance there every evening for ten days. I have a singer and three musicians. It pays well, I’ll be able to not work for months after that.”

“You’re going up there tonight?”

“Yes, I am. That’s why I told you I’d bring things back if needed. Perhaps not today, cause the first night is always hectic, but tomorrow for sure.”

“I’ve never been to the Chlorba district,” Armin says.

“It’s not a particularly interesting place to go to,” I tell him with a smile.

“What time are you leaving?” I flinch and turn around to see Levi standing right behind me. He has to _stop_ doing that.

“Wow, do you sneak up on everyone like this? I leave at six.”

“Can you take me through the passage?” He apparently hasn’t heard my question…

“I was planning to show you, sooner or later. You want to go up tonight?”

“I have to send word that we’re not dead and hopefully get orders. And fuel, If I can find some.”

“Alright, I’ll show you.”

Eren, who had stayed out of the conversation so far, calls out to us. “Can we go up too?”

“No.” Levi’s tone leaves no room to argue.

So of course, I argue. “If they wear hoods, nobody will notice, not during the festivities.”

“I said no.”

 _Okay_. “… ‘No’ it is, then.”

“I’ll be ready at six,” Levi says, walking away without even reacting to the pleas of the young people around him.

“Sorry guys. Not my call. And not my responsibility.”

“He’s right anyway,” Mikasa whispers. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I would have liked to listen to some proper music, though,” Jean sighs. “Because what Connie’s been playing is hurting my brain.”

“Hey, screw you! I can’t play well but at least I produce other sounds than constant complaining!”

I laugh. “I’ve heard him, it’s honestly not bad, even with that crooked flute you guys found. And it doesn’t have to be excellent to be nice. Look at that dress. To a trained eye, it’s a catastrophe. Costume was never my strong suit. But for me, all that matters is that it doesn’t come undone when I do the most extreme moves. The audience only cares that it’s red and pretty and flows when I dance. And that it might unravel at some point,” I add with a smile. They stare at me, not really surprised, not really daring to react. “Anyway, it’s done now. I have to get a few hours of rest before going, I won’t be back before sunrise. I trust you guys to sort dinner out yourselves, eh? I’ll try and get something nice for you.”

I look at them again, their young faces looking up, so young but already darkened by loss, effort, fear. Primal, all-encompassing fear that they have to overcome every day of their lives. There’s a hardness in their eyes, a glint of iron that should not be seen in teenagers.

Yeah, I’ll get them sweets from a patron. Shouldn’t be too hard to get someone pay for lemon drops if I ask nicely. I bundle the dress under my arm, close the sewing box, and go back to my hut. My lair within the lair…

\---

The little alarm clock rings half an hour before I have to leave. I get up, down two cups of water and walk out to do a bit of stretching. My left shoulder is hurting. I hadn’t felt it in a while, I wonder why this pain is coming back now. I lift my right arm up, fold it over my head, and try to touch the scar tissue just next to my left shoulder blade. It doesn’t feel hot. I still won’t be trying any acrobatics tonight, and perhaps not even this week. The show doesn’t need them, but I need my shoulder, alone out there. I can’t afford getting injured.

“Your shoulder – “

“What the HELL!” My voice echoes in the cave. I whirl around and see Levi, staring at me, slightly surprised by my yelling. I can feel my heart rate accelerating, and the danger alarms in my head are going off. _Control it, V. He’s not ‘danger’._ “Do NOT sneak on me like this!” For fuck’s sake, I didn’t even _hear_ him! He keeps staring at me, without a word. “It’s VERY unnerving. And you don’t know how I react to this. What if I had a knife? Just… Don’t do it again.”

He doesn’t even seem to have heard a word I’ve said. “Your shoulder,” he says again. “You shouldn’t stretch it that way.”

“Well, I have to. There are movements I need to do.”

“You won’t gain mobility like this. Not if it was injured.”

“Why do you think it never healed properly?” I snap. “I don’t need a LOT of mobility. And I’m not…” _Why am I arguing?_ “Don’t bother. I know what I need to do.”

“You’re wrong.”

He goes to grabs my left arm. I do everything in my power to breathe calmly. _Not dangerous._ “I know how to stretch before a show, thank you very much,” I mutter, dodging his hand.

He takes a couple of steps back. “Suit yourself. It’s almost six.”

“I know.”

I go get my dress and make up bag, and a couple lamps. Then I head to the back of the cave, opposite the entrance staircase, without another word. I walk briskly, keeping ahead of him, but not too far so he can still see. My instincts tell me not to turn my back to him. I quiet them; I need to condition myself to not feel threatened around him. None of what he’s done is dangerous to me. Can’t let those stupid alarms make me do something I’d regret. I’d lose anyway.

He stays behind, not bridging the distance. I’m starting to feel bad I snapped; he was only trying to help, after all. He probably knows what he’s talking about. But then, he doesn’t have any information on what happened to my damn shoulder. And I won’t be volunteering any. And it’s none of his goddamn business anyway! Couldn’t he see I was doing something that didn’t require his input? That doesn’t require _anyone’s_ input.  
Except perhaps that of another dancer, or a physician. He is neither of those things.  
Even though there’s a good chance he knows how the body works, and I of all people should know how close 3D maneuvering is to dancing, and dancing to 3DM.  
It’s not like the injury was completely unrelated to any of this either.  
Still, it was rude. For someone so precise about cleanliness... he sure doesn’t apply this to manners. He is under my roof, I am preparing for my job, to try and bring back money that I’ll most certainly spend on him and his kid soldiers.

I’m not walking anymore, I’m stomping. There could be literal smoke coming out of my ears, I wouldn’t even be surprised. Calm the fuck down, V. Winding you up like this will make it easier for my stupid instincts to be way off. I straighten up and crack my neck. I’ve let him get myself all tensed up again, twice in the same day. He _still_ hasn’t said a word. I hope he took good note of the markings on the walls, I’m not waiting around for him before going back. I don’t know when I’ll be done.

We’re almost there anyway.

There’s a sharp turn, and we reach the abandoned underground district under the city. I know some of those tunnels are inhabited, in other places, but not this one. We climb up a flight of stairs, open a trap door, and here we are, in the ruins of a warehouse that burnt down ages ago and was never repaired or destroyed. Lack of money, probably. Funds are better used refurbishing the Palace’s toilets, I suppose.

“Will you find your way back?” I ask. He nods. “Not here, to the cave.”

“If I don’t, you’ll find me waiting for you here. You’re coming up every day for ten days, that’s it?”

“Yeah.”

He’s already looking at the sky. “I’ll wait for dark.”

“Good thinking.” He seems completely unaffected by the fact that I sent him to hell not an hour ago and didn’t speak a word to him all the way up here. “I have to go, or I’ll be late.” He focuses his eyes on me. “Good luck, I guess.” He nods, again.

The tavern where I’m dancing is not too far from the ruins. When I get there, clients are already drunk and rowdy. First and last nights are always the absolute worst.  
I make a point to only work at establishments operated by women, it helps limit the unpleasantness my job can entail, but with festivals like this one… By starting earlier than everyone else, we’re going to earn sweet money, but every drunkard under the sun is going to be here.

End of the fucking harvest. As if we didn’t know that without a proper harvest, there’s no way we can feed everyone. Beer might work for a while, but they won’t forget their hunger for very long.

Not my problem. My job is precisely to make them forget, and they’re willing to pay for that.  
So I put on my dress and make up my face.

Time to shine.


	6. Lemon Drops

I get back in the cave twelve hours later, utterly exhausted. I can’t feel my feet; or perhaps I can only feel them, compared to the rest of my body. What the hell was I on when I said yes to this? Thinking I could dance just like I did ten years ago? I’ve maintained my body, but hell, this is hard. And I have to start again in another twelve fucking hours. Masquerade, we decided. Fucking stupid idea. Some of the kids are already up, but I can’t make small talk now. I wave at them and walk straight to my house, wash my face the best I can with ice cold water and stumble into bed.

Bliss.

\---

I get woken up by a light tap on my shoulder. “RRrgghh.” Everything hurts. But that’s probably the drinks. The curse of not getting drunk, but still having to pay for every glass the next day.

Hange’s voice reaches my ears. “Hey, sorry to wake you. I thought that something to eat would be a good idea.”

So _fucking_ kind. Can’t even be mad that she woke me up.

I hoist myself up in the bed. I must be a sight… “Yeah. Thanks.” She hands me a plate with two boiled potatoes, a strip of meat, and… figs? “Where d’you get these?”

“There’s a tree in the village.”

“You went up there?” I mumble, biting into the potato.

“Yeah. Figured they needed some air. And I wanted to have a look at the area.”

“Ran into any trouble?”

She shakes her head. “Listen,” she asks, “I have a question. What time did you and Levi part ways yesterday?”

I swallow my mouthful of hot potato. “He’s not back yet?”

“No.”

“We got up there at seven-ish. He said he was going to wait for the night to come before moving. I had to go, I left him hidden in the warehouse. Didn’t see him when I got back this morning.”

“Hm.”

“You worried?” I cut a fig open and scrape the pink flesh with the blade of my knife. If there’s some insect in there, I don’t see it. Never mind. I lick the knife clean. Figs are my favourite.

“Not really. But considering the situation up there…”

Those figs are delicious. “I’ll show you the passage tonight, so you can come and go as you please.” She looks over her shoulder towards the door. “You know they’ll be fine.” She nods. “Kay,” I tell her, “I leave at six again.” I wipe my stained fingers on my dress. “How’s Sasha?” I realize I should have asked that before.

“Better, but far from recovered. She came round a bit, long enough to have her drink broth, but she fainted again. She banged her head pretty hard falling, she says she can’t remember what happened, and the blood loss didn't help." Hange shakes her head. “Good news is, no concussion.” She gets up and takes my plate with the fig peels still on it. “We kept some water warm for you if you want a bath.”

Hey, it’s not that bad to have people around, after all. “Thank you, that’s really unnecessary, you know.” She shrugs. “Oh, I almost forgot!” I get up and grab a small package, wrapped in brown paper. “I got lemon drops for all of you!”

She stares at the bag. “How? I hope you didn’t pay for them!”

“Nope, didn’t have to. Someone wanted to give me a present.” I say with a grin.

“People give you _that_ kind of presents?”

“You’d be surprised by the number of very rich assholes who select some dodgy tavern to come and have a good time. They think their wives won’t notice, and there’s a sort of secret pact between them to not say anything if they run into each other.”

“They think their wives… OH!” she says, her eyes shooting down.

“Oh, I don’t do that. No, I don’t need that kind of money. I just make them think that it might happen, one day, if they give me enough lemon drops.” I smile. “But I mostly just dance. Doesn’t mean I didn’t pick up tricks to get my way, over the years.”

“I never really had use for this type of tricks.”

I laugh. “That’s because you can chop people’s heads off if they don’t do what you ask.”

“And you couldn’t?”

What does she mean? Has she noticed? I don’t think I’ve done anything that could underline my training, but perhaps she picked up on something. I can’t really tell her that I don’t trust myself with anything too lethal, especially without saying a word of the real reasons I find myself here alone, and the circumstances that led me to be deadly in the first place. So, I say nothing. We remain silent, looking at each other. I can tell from the look on her face that she wants to ask more, but she decides not to and holds the bag up.

“Thanks for the sweets. They’re gonna like you even more…”

I bow my head slowly and watch her leave.

A bath actually sounds like an excellent idea.

\---

I’m soaking in water when I hear voices and loud steps outside the bathhouse. I try to make myself not care about what is going on. They probably found a weird insect, nothing more.

But the water is growing cold, and I can’t hear what they’re saying, and it’s probably almost time for me to get ready again. I need to make sure my mask will stay on my face all night.

I hoist my sore body out of the tub, dry myself properly and slip a clean dress on. I topple the tub over into the drain. Every movement makes me more conscious of how stiff my muscles are.

I walk out to see them all excitedly gathered around Levi, who looks even worse off than me, having probably not slept at all. As soon as he sees I’m out, he gets up and walks to me, ignoring the noisy kids. Hange trails after him, avoiding my eyes.

“Found your way back, then,” I tell him.

“Yeah.”

“Managed to do everything you needed?” He nods.

Hange starts speaking, shooting out words so fast I can barely keep up. “Listen, we have a question, I know you already said so, but… I don’t know. Levi, I’m not sure it’s such a good idea, we need to hurry, somehow, and I don’t like the thought of being an imposition, there’s nine of us, and – “

“Your offer,” he interrupts, looking at me, eyes hooded. “Letting us stay as long as we need. Does it still stand?”

I look at them both. Him, an unreadable expression on his face. He almost looks bored by it all. Her, darting her eyes at me, then at her feet, then at the walls, an awkward smile on her lips. I look behind them, at the kids, trying to catch what we’re talking about. I _did_ offer. If they keep making food and drawing baths…

“Yes,” I tell them. “But we’ll need to get organized. I can get food, but not keep house.”

He nods, silently. Hange grabs my hands, ecstatic.

“Thank you; thank you so much! We’ll find a way to repay you for your kindness, I promise we won’t be an inconvenience, we’ll get our own supplies if you want, and Levi will make them clean. You won’t regret this.”

“Keep yelling like this and I will,” I say, half smiling.

“Yes, yes, very helpful,” Levi says, without the display of gratitude. “We’re staying,” he says loudly over his shoulder.

The truth is it feels really fucking good to be needed for something else than the way my body moves. There are loud cheers coming from the kitchen area.

“Oi! Don’t make so much noise! It’s not a holiday, we’re not on leave!”

But even their officer yelling at them can’t dampen their moods. They’re not happy to be hiding, they’re happy to be somewhat safe. I walk to them and am greeted with several thanks. I dismiss them all.

“How long will you need to stay?”

“It depends, can’t be sure. Erwin’s orders are to stand by while they check the safe house, but we need to be ready to move as soon as Sasha can sustain transport. We’ll have to secure that ourselves. It’s a real shitfest, out there. Central MP on the lookout for us.”

I tense up at that name, hopefully not too visibly. Well what did I fucking expect. Of course, that’s who they report to. Levi continues speaking, apparently unaware of my sudden unease.

“I’ve arranged for a discreet fuel delivery at the warehouse early tomorrow morning. Just in case we have to make a run for it. If that happens too soon, we’ll leave Sasha here with you.”

“Alright. What has… have your superiors planned to get you out? From what I’ve gathered, you’re not exactly popular anymore up there.”

Armin clenches his teeth. “We’re that close to be arrested, yeah.”

“What happened? I remember grumbling about tax money being wasted on expeditions, but nothing serious enough for you to be wanted criminals.”

They hesitate, looking at each other, clearly debating whether to explain or not. I understand that they can't trust me. I wouldn't trust me. I give a small wave with my hand to let them know it's fine, not to bother. I turn around.

"Wait!" It's the small blonde girl, Historia they call her. "If we're going to stay here, we have to tell her." Hange and Levi exchange a look, then ask me to sit.

They tell me what I assume is a watered-down version. They tell me that Eren can turn into a titan, which I had heard about from soldiers without being too sure if it was true, about the corruption and deception of the royalty, the wall cultists and the politicians, about how they’re all now being viewed as highly suspicious by the military police and even by citizens. And about how the little blonde girl, little Historia of all people, is actually of noble descent. The caste of nobles is trying to eliminate the survey corps entirely, to have Eren and his power for themselves, and keep the population under control. Forever assholes, those ones. The squad was trying to go into hiding to protect their two assets, but got found out and had to escape, chased all the way over the wall. They were looking for a way back in through Chlorba when they ran into titans and Sasha was hurt.

“Holy shit,” I whisper. “That’s… a LOT.” I’m involved in something far more serious than what I initially thought. “I knew it was bad, but not that bad. Propaganda, eh? People’s emotions are easily manipulated, aren’t they?” I should know… “So, it’s you two they want?”

Historia nods, and Eren doesn’t react, his eyes locked on his fists.

“Yes,” Mikasa answers. “But we won’t let them be caught. We managed to save them from the traitors, and – “

Levi clears his throat to interrupt her. I guess I’m not trustworthy enough to get _all_ of the information. But I'm not worried; people tend to trust me, despite everything. I was told it's because I seem so inoffensive.

“Well nobody is going to find them here. But guys… I’m going to have to ask one thing of you. I’d prefer it if you kept quiet about this place, when all of this is over.”

Historia whispers. “Of course. That is _one_ secret that isn’t hurting anyone.”

“Thank you.”

“No,” she says, finally looking at me. “Thank _you_.”

This kid. Nobility. Who could check? Who could find out if they’re lying, to me, to their superiors, to themselves? Wouldn’t be the first time they try to inspire the population with fake glory and awe. Worst is, it would work.

I’m too deep in this to back out now. And whatever happens, it doesn’t impact me. Not until they reclaim the wall and make the land inhabitable again. Which, at this rate, won’t happen before at least two years. Perhaps by then, I’ll be done with solitude. It’s unlikely, considering what I see from the outside world. But if they succeed… perhaps the world wouldn’t be so awful a place to live in, anymore. Which is, frankly, an even better reason for me to not be in it; I'd find a way to ruin everything. I’ll find another cave, or a cabin in the mountains. There’s always a solution to stay far from all the things my brain registers as ‘danger’.

I realize all eyes are on me. I haven’t spoken in a while and am staring at the stone wall opposite me. From the corner of my left eye, I see Levi’s steel gaze locked on my face.

“Anyway,” I say. “Some of you have to go out there dig out potatoes or I’ll have to eat those rations of yours and I will not do that. And I have a show to go to.”

I get up without another word and retreat to my house. I have to be careful, or I’ll slip up.


	7. Masquerade

I’m upgrading the costume, tonight. The crowd seems particularly wealthy; they love a good old carnival atmosphere. Everything permitted, identities hidden, limits abolished. There are soldiers too, always ready for a good show. And there’s everyone else…

They all want to be told that there is a world, not too far from this one, where they can do whatever they want, without consequences. Because doing exactly that in real life is apparently not enough for them.

I have a very special piece for this kind of night and audience, one I haven’t done in a while but always works, and I’ll serve it gladly.

Again, I invited my temporary guests to come and have a bit of fun, but the kids were told no, and the two actual grown-ups seem to have better things to do.

I tell the singer and musicians about the little surprise we are going to give the audience later, and they seem happy enough. It always yields a good amount of coin. My mood has improved compared to yesterday, might as well make bank with it.

I fasten feathers on my headpiece and train, place a satin domino mask over my face, check my makeup. Bright red lips, powdered cheeks, blackened eyes.

All good.

The singer, a young woman with a lot of ambition for someone singing in a dive bar, announces me. I can hear the regulars, the ones who have been coming here for long enough to know the performers, chanting the fake name I use.

I walk out on stage as the music starts. The beginning of the song is drowned out in the applause. I lift my hands up to the sky, basking in this short-lived glory. The applause gives me life, the red, drunk faces seem angelic to me, their lust transformed into worship by this delusion that I cherish. It doesn’t matter what I do, what they say; I never feel unsafe here, I’m powerful and untouchable.

I fucking love being on stage.

I twirl and bend, play with their expectations, get close to the edge of the rickety wood thing they call a stage, they can almost touch me; if they reach out they might brush the feathers of my train with the tip of their fingers, and I’m gone again, far, out of reach, forever inaccessible, clad in temptation.

The place is filled to the brim, people sitting at and even on the sticky tables between jugs of beer, many standing at the back. And still, more try to get inside, drawn in by the light and music. Most have some sort of mask, I can hardly tell who is old and who is young; they’re mostly men, but a few women are also enjoying the show.

I spot a hooded figure slipping past the yelling patrons, walking straight to the back of the tavern. I see two drunk soldiers trying to wake a third one, already passed out on a table. I see people distributing cheap paper masks to each other, laughing. The bartender adeptly weaves through the crowd, handing out jugs and counting change with one hand.

I finish the song. I can feel my chest heaving from the effort, but I’m smiling. My singer is also panting, and the musicians call for a break. I could go on forever, but I've learnt that others needed rest, sometimes.

I make my way to the centre of the stage. “Thank you for your appreciation! It is a delight to be here tonight. I can see that there are fine experts of the arts in the audience tonight!”

They’re drunk enough to think it’s flattery.

“I have a surprise for you wonderful people. Tonight, we will be taking requests! My friend here,” I point at Ophelia, the singer, “will be coming to you. She will write down your contribution and the title of a piece you want me to dance for you. I will perform for the five highest bidders!”

The room erupts in applause and hooting. That _always_ works. I go get a stiff drink poured to me while they’re making bids. The men sitting at the bar holler at me and try to pay for my rum. I decline every time. I made this mistake exactly _once_ , and it almost cost me my spot, which would have been fair considering the absolute mess I made of the man when he tried to insist I go home with him. I could always find a new place, but I like it here. It’s too much risk, especially for a mediocre half night with a drunk soldier so out of shape that he’ll fall asleep halfway through what he’s supposed to be doing.

I have never been interested in getting close to anyone. Life is transient and times too uncertain to grow attached. And anyway, I’m not going to play house in the cave, and I will not come live up here. So, I’m alone most nights, despite some of the men’s insistence to _follow_ me after shows.

Ophelia signals me that she’s has everyone’s requests. I finish the rest of rum and get myself back on stage. She announces the bid first, then the song. That’s a LOT of money. 

The first three are fairly usual requests, and I have a routine ready for all of them.  
Fourth song is definitely more racy, almost indecent. I play prude for a bit, make a joke about innocence and family oriented fun, how dare they assume I know such a song, then get rid of the headpiece and feathery train to pretend I’m going to show some skin. Almost effortlessly, I give them a little of what they want. By the time I’m finished, they’re ready to bid again, if I ask them.

My singer seems delighted. Her share will be sizable tonight, with this little stunt.

“And for the fifth and final bidder, someone who asked to remain anonymous, a request that I think we’ve never had, but our lovely dancer will tell us…”

It’s extremely rare to have a song for the first time. But who knows; there are so many songs. I can always improvise a few steps if necessary. Or show more skin, that would work too.

“I myself haven’t heard in in years, that’s for sure. It was such a good song… ladies and gentlemen, I give you… the Will-o’-Wisp!”

The world goes still. I’m cold, very cold. And stiff. I’m going to throw up.  
The crowd is delirious, and I stare blankly, not seeing any of them.

No.

I’m not dancing it.

Who requested this? _Someone who didn’t give their name_. I force myself to scan the gleeful, hungry faces at my feet. I recognize no-one.

_Danger_

It must be a coincidence.

_You have to run._

Nobody here knows who I am.

_They are going to catch you._

They can’t have done it on purpose.

_You can’t let them catch you._

“Hey?” The singer’s voice reaches my ears despite the loud thrumming of my own heart. “V, are you alright?”

I have to do something, say something.

“I… I can’t dance this. I don’t remember it.”

She doesn’t hear me. The music starts playing. As soon as I hear the first chords, my entire body gest in motion. I start gagging. I have to physically stop myself from dancing, that’s how much the steps are ingrained in me.

And I don’t want to, I can’t dance this, they will know.

My body doesn’t even know whether to respond to the music or my inner alarms. My vision starts to blur.

_Run._

I turn around and walk off the stage, towards the cramped changing room.

The singer and the bartender run after me. I can hear music, a different tune, something to keep the crowd occupied.

“What the fuck?” Ophelia yells. “You can’t do that!”

“Of course I can, I just did. Don’t yell.” _Control_.

“Can you hear them?” the bartender asks. Yes, I can, they’re hurling insults. “They’ll tear the whole place down!”

 _Breathe. You’re not in danger_. I take off the mask and the costume, and put my old plain dress back on, while the two of them are yelling at me. I barely hear the words they use. I look at the bag of money and hand it over.

“Here, take from my earnings yesterday and buy a round for everyone. On me. To compensate.”

“Fine,” the bartender says, taking the money. “But you have to finish the week.”

Like hell I have. “No, I’m done.”

“Vic, please,” the singer pleads. “There’s no way we’re making enough money without you. You might not need it, but I do.”

She has seven brothers and sisters. Am I going to let someone else starve because I need to hide? I can feel my heart thundering in my chest. _You are not in danger._

“Fine, but no more requests. We stick to the program.”

“If this costs us, you’ll be paying for the loss out of pocket.”

“I don’t care. I just don’t want to do requests again.” _That is danger._ “Do you hear me?”

I can feel the tone of my voice changing and breathe to calm down. The threat is gone, now, it’s been managed, and soon I’ll be home again. Safe.

The singer pouts. “Go home. Sleep on it, take tomorrow evening off. We’ll talk about it in two days, with everyone here.”

She is furious at me, but I really don’t give a damn. I have so much more to lose than her, and there’s no way I’m letting this happen again.

They walk out with my hard-earned cash and I’m left alone. I don’t stay to consider what has just happened. I gather my things and stumble out the back of the tavern onto the damp pavement. Thunder rumbles in the distance. I hope it’s not going to rain again.

On the way to the warehouse, I can’t help replaying the entire scene in my head.

The will-o’-wisp!

Who the hell requested it? Who asks for _this_ song at a fair?

And who pays an inordinate amount of money to get a dance and not even give their name to boast about being able to afford it?  
I could understand a ballroom request? Making me dance with them instead of for them. Getting close to the stage. That would have made sense.

But this? It’s a complicated piece, a simple folk song, but with the dance, it tells such a story… Despair and hope. It doesn’t get played because it’s pretty or lively. It gets asked because of what it _means_ , because of what it used to represent.

When you want to listen to and watch the will-o’-wisp, you want the whole of it. The tune, and the dancer. THE will-o’-wisp. And you don’t just ask any dancer.

_Someone knows who I am._

Not that many people can dance it, anyway, let alone dance it as it’s meant to be.

So, who better to perform it than its actual creator?

_Someone knows who I fucking am!_

I press my hands to my cheeks. I’m burning up, I have to get back to somewhere I can wind down alone. Another trigger and this might really spiral out of control. I've barely finished that thought that an arm grabs me and yanks me backwards. A jolt of panic runs down my spine, and the world gets blurry again.

“So the pretty lady didn’t want to accept my drink, eh? Bet you’ll say yes now, bitch.”

 _How did I not hear him?_ He’s slurring every other work, barely standing straight and his breath reeks of cheap beer. _Why did none of my defences work?_

“Let go of me!” I slap his arm and take a few steps back. _Control._

He produces a kitchen knife.

Fuck. I hear shrieks inside my head now. I can see hands trying to grab at me from all sides. _No. He is alone. Focus on the knife._

“Listen,” I tell the man. “I’m not that kind of dancer, okay? There are plenty you can ask for this, they’ll be happy to do what you want, for a little cash. Just, not me.”

“It’s you I want. The snob who doesn’t want my drink, who doesn’t even want to dance. Who the fuck do you think you are? You’re just a bitch and you’ll do as I say.”

I am done with this.

“Listen, wanker, you have one chance to turn around and make it home. One. Make the right choice here.”

“And what are you going to do to me?”

“You don’t want to find out.”

Slowly, I reach for my own knife, hidden under my clothes. It’s dark enough that he doesn’t see.

He swears and hurls himself at me. I swivel and plant the blade into his side and pull. He falls on the pavement, swearing

He swears again, looks at the blood oozing out of his ribs, and pulls out a gun.

All right then. I can let go. It’s just the two of us. No consequences. If he dies, he dies.

_He is danger._

I let the terror fill my head; a black veil is already clouding most of my vision.

Then there’s a whirl, a zip, the sound of several blows being given. The man’s body slumps on the pavement, his head lolling to the side, the gun in the gutter.

_Calm down. Now._

I see the glow of a torch. I smell the rain. I hear the sound of footsteps. I can taste the rum on my tongue. I feel the fabric on my skin. _Breathe._

“I thought you never let anyone follow you.” _Levi_. How is he …? “Get inside. We don’t want to be here if someone comes.” He gets hold of my arm. _Not danger; not danger_. Before I have time to register what is happening, he rushes me through the half-collapsed door of the warehouse, and into the passage.

As soon as we’re under the ground, I stop dead in my tracks and sit down. I’m shaking from head to toe. I had control on absolutely nothing for the past twenty minutes and that doesn’t work well with me. I have to get a grip, I’m safe now. Levi looks at me, slightly frowning. _He thinks you’re afraid. Show him you are not afraid._ No, it doesn’t matter. He is not a threat. You are not at risk here.

“Thank you,” I mutter. “That was far too close a call.”

He was going to shoot you.” _That’s not what the close call was…_ “Again, I thought you – “

“I was distracted.” I take a deep breath. “Were you following me again?”

He doesn’t answer. I get back to my feet and start walking. The ringing in my ears is receding, but the sooner I’m back, the better. We walk in silence for most of the way, before I remember why he was out there in the first place.

“Did you get your delivery?”

“Yes, brought it down, came back up.”

“Why did you come back up?”

“You said you were distracted?” he asks, completely ignoring my own question. “What happened?”

“Trouble during the show. Nothing serious.”

He says nothing, and silence reigns again. There’s no sound except our own footsteps. Another minute and I make another halt to take off my heeled boots. Fuck, I forgot my walking shoes at the tavern. Means I’ll have to go back and get them. I wanted to hide and never go back there.

Levi waits for me. The lamp he’s holding is casting shadows on his face, half hidden under a hood. In his hand, a crumpled paper mask.

Holy f –

“It was YOU!”

I wish I could hit him, but surprise pins me in place. _Him_?

“Why?” I yell.

“Don’t shout. Why didn’t you dance it?”

I want to rip his eyes out of their sockets. He’s so fucking calm, and I’m so fucking angry. So angry, it seems, that danger doesn’t even matter anymore. 

“Screw you.”

I start walking again, sharp stones cutting my feet, but I barely feel them. I need to not be here.

No. He’s the one who needs to feel bad. I whirl around to face him.

“Why did you do this?”

“Why you didn’t dance it?"

“Because I didn’t want to.”

He considers this, eyes fixated on the shoes in my hand.

“I needed to be sure it was you. Victoria Feuerbach. Also known as Will-o’-wisp.”

“And instead of asking, you decided to almost expose me in front of a full audience! What a brilliant idea!”

“It worked.”

“Again, asking me didn’t occur to you?”

“You would have lied.”

He does have a point. “Why do you need to know?”

“You're not denying?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I said it wasn’t me.” His eyes slide from my face to my shoes to my face again, but he doesn’t seem like he cares. “How did you recognize me?”

“I didn’t. I found out what festival was in that village, five years ago. It was one of those recruitments fairs they did at the time. There’s also something about your gait. You’re a dancer, but that’s not _just_ dancing. It’s 3DMG. And eventually, I remembered seeing you once, at some gala Erwin insisted I go to, years ago. Wondered what all the fuss was about.”

Yeah, there’s really no point in denying it. I’m found out. “Are you going to tell on me, like a good little soldier?”

“I have no reason to.”

“Then why go through all this trouble?”

“We had to know who we are trusting. Your identity is something I could discover a lot more easily than what actually happened in this cave for you to be alone, unless you tell us."

“Never,” I hiss. “Never, you hear me?”

He narrows his eyes, surprised. Then his shoulders twitch, in a half hearted shrug. “I won’t tell anyone,” he says.

“I fucking hope so.”

“Why are you hiding?"

 _Oh, if only you knew…_ We’ve reached the cave. It’s dead silent; everybody is asleep.

There’s something barely perceptible in his eyes. A glint of suspicion. Of curiosity? Or perhaps it’s just the shadows from the lamp.

\---

“Let me get this straight,” Hange whispered, “you’re telling me that we stumbled upon the hiding place of a former Military Police operative? An assassin for the royal government?”

“That’s a deduction,” Levi replied, brushing crumbs from the table. “A dancer going by ‘will-o-wisp’, did exist, and was indeed performing here five years ago. There’s information suggesting that to dispose of prominent opponents in a quiet manner, the MP used hit men, highly disposable elements. One of them got to be known as Little Flame, and it seems that she and will-o-wisp are the same person.”

“And you think this is who Victoria really is ?” He didn’t answer. “If she didn’t deny it and if what you described was indeed her reaction, then she didn’t expect to be found out.” Hange steepled her fingers over her lips. “I was thinking…”

He interrupted her before she had a chance to utter the crazy thought he knew she was already forming. “No.”

“I haven’t said anything yet!”

“Absolutely out of the question. We are not making her go back with us. The situation is already shitty enough without adding her to the mess. She might still be loyal to them.”

“I don’t think so, but even if she were : keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. We have Nick, if we have someone like her, that’s more evidence that –“

Again, he cut her mid-sentence. He did not want to shoulder this on top of everything else. They had no idea who this woman really was, what she believed in, who she knew. “There’s a reason she’s hiding here, and we don’t know it.”

“Well then, we’ll have to find out.”

“Not we; you. You find out if you want. I’m getting us out of here as soon as possible.”


	8. The Uglier Truth

I sleep like a log until seven in the evening. This time, nobody came to wake me up with a plate of food. I make a beeline to the bath house, staring at my feet. I stay in there a long time, longer than necessary. At least I don’t have to go back up tonight. Leaves me time to decide if I’m going to finish the week or not; I can hide for another entire day if I want to.

I’m famished, however. I’ll have to face them sooner or later to reach the pantry. Or I could wait a few hours, until the middle of the night… This would work.

A loud grumble in my stomach tells me that no, it would not work. I haven’t eaten in more than a day. I have to walk out there.

And why am I feeling ashamed in the first place? They don’t know a thing. Only _he_ knows.

And he didn’t seem to care either way. He just wanted to know for himself, he’ll tell certainly Hange, but there’s no logical reason he said anything to the kids. They don’t need to know, and they’re probably too young to remember the fairs anyway. We’d already reduced the number of shows by the time the titans broke through the wall. And not everyone saw the show. Even if they did, it’s unlikely they’d remember me specifically. And even if they did –

Why am I like this? Knowing who I am won’t make them judge me. They don’t know why I hid here. I can still lie about that, there’s no way they’ll discover the truth about this unless I tell them.

I’m insignificant. I was just a dancer, a good one, but that’s it. I dreamt of being exceptional, but that ship has long sailed. I don’t matter to them.

They don’t care.

And I owe them nothing. I have nothing to be ashamed of.

Hell, it was so restful, being alone with myself and able to become someone else with others, since being myself with others is not an option. Not after all the deaths. But none of them know about the deaths. I’m the only one who knows. I decided to hide and save my skin, that’s it, that’s the whole story, I’d rather they think me a coward than know the truth. Even with my name, they don’t know who I really am.

I can’t stay in the bath house forever. I take a deep breath and imagine I’m on stage again. I open the door, and walk to the kitchen, chin up. I greet everyone loudly, grab a plate, a cup. Someone brought bread… Which I’m not touching. It’s not mine.

I find a knife and chop some melon onto the plate. That will do. There’s water already boiling in preparation for dinner.

Everyone is scattered around the cave, reading, talking, cleaning. Mikasa and Historia emerge from the pantry with vegetables and smile at me. I stare back, trying to figure out from their faces if they know.

Calm the fuck down, V. We’ve already established that they don’t care. Nobody’s after you.

“Hi,” I say, forcing a smile. “Dinner?” I point at the basketful of potatoes they’re carrying.

“Yes.”

“We’re almost out of meat,” little Historia adds. “We don’t need it; we’re not eating what’s left, it’s yours.” I bite into a cube of melon to avoid answering. “You didn’t see the bread? Captain got it for us. He also brought back black tea. He said it was a disgrace to not have any.”

“Yeah.” I jump out of my skin. Fucking hell, he did it again; thank heavens I’m too exhausted to overreact. “A real disgrace.”

“It’s not the easiest thing to obtain.”

“It’s over there,” he says, jutting his chin towards a wooden box behind him.

“I see.” He’s acting like nothing happened yesterday. I can work with that.

“Is that all you’re eating?” Mikasa asks.

“For now, yes. I’ll have a potato when they’re ready. Oh, and…” They watch me go to the pantry, where I rummage for a minute. I was sure there were other ones… here! I get back to the table holding an unopened bottle of rum. “I’m gonna have some of this.”

I uncork it, smell the alcohol, and pour myself a cup. “Bottoms up!”

“What do you need that for?” Levi asks.

I look into his still eyes. “Calms my nerves.” I pour another cup, not breaking eye contact. He shrugs. I put down the empty cup; consider a third one. No, not sensible. Not with only half a melon in my stomach. I can more than hold my liquor, but things are being far too unpredictable to add my drunk self to the mix.

I push the bottle away and start helping the girls with the potatoes. Armin soon joins us. I listen to them talk about whatever plan they dream of seeing through. Something about being able to repair the wall with some power Eren has when he’s a titan. Something about experiments that have to be done. Another thing about trying soon, that they can’t here, too dangerous with the titans, they have to go back behind wall Rose. Something about changing the world…

I can hear Eren and Jean arguing, near the corner where they stored their gear.

Mikasa turns around. “Enough, the two of you. It’s exhausting.”

Armin smiles. “Connie, play us something, will you? It will distract us while we peel.”

“That’s not going to improve anyone’s mood,” Jean snaps.

“If we don’t have to listen to your constant bickering, I call it a win,” Levi says quietly. He’s sat at the end of the kitchen bench, mending his cape. He doesn’t even look up and keeps working the needle.

Connie grabs the flute, scratches his head. “What do you want me to play?”

“Anything you want,” Historia answers with a smile.

“Oh, I have a song!” Eren says. “I don’t know what it’s called, though. It’s that one you like to play, it starts like this…”

The knife I was holding falls from my hand and clinks on the stony floor.

That kid just started humming the will-o-wisp.

I can _feel_ Levi’s eyes on me. I’m frozen in place again, unable to move, unable to look at anyone, my heart throbbing in my throat. Nobody has noticed yet, I think. I shake myself mentally, take a deep breath and retrieve the knife from under the table.

“Nah,” says the captain. “I don’t like this song, something else.”

“I remember it well, though,” Connie argues.

“Oh, we know, you play it all the time.” Jean says. “I’ll be damned if I know what it’s called, though.”

“I think I know it too, but haven’t heard it in a long time,” Armin says softly.

“I said I didn't want to hear it,” Levi repeats, more forceful this time. At least he’s trying.

But Connie either doesn’t care, doesn’t hear, or wants to brag about his memory. “It’s called the Will-o’-wisp, it’s an old folk melody, but at some point, it was everywhere, it was made very popular by the – “

I start getting up from the bench.

“The recruitment fairs,” Armin finishes, even more quietly. “There was that dancer…”

Too late.

Connie literally jumps to his feet. “Victoria… that’s where I recognized you from! They said I was imagining things, but I knew I’d seen you somewhere. I was right! Victoria Feuerbach! _The_ will-o-wisp!”

I distinctly hear Levi whisper “Fuck” somewhere on my left. Yeah, that’s about right.

I’m standing, a statue, not sure if I should stay, leave, deny, or confirm.

“Is it you?” Armin asks, his eyes staring into my very soul. No words come out from me. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Eren laughs. “Cause she’s a murderer, that’s why.”

That is enough. _He’s going to catch you,_ a voice singsongs inside my head _._ I step over the bench and start walking away. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” he says. “Run away to hide.” I freeze and turn around.

“Eren!” Mikasa shouts, shocked.

“Shut the fuck up. Now.” Levi orders. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But the kid doesn’t shut up. “Captain, I heard you talking with Squad Leader Hange this morning. She,” he says, pointing at me, “was a member of the MP, and murdered people on their orders. No wonder she doesn’t want her name to be known, or even live in the city. She should be put on trial for her crimes.”

The next instant, I’m inches from Eren’s face, who’s looking at me, anger and surprise in his green eyes.

“Say one more word,” I hiss, teeth clenched, “and I swear to you, last hope of mankind or not, I’ll rip your tongue out.”

Mikasa jumps and pulls me back, locking both my arms, and Armin comes to stand between me and Eren. The others slowly draw near, ready to pounce on me, except Historia, who sits, paralyzed.

_They caught you. They caught you. You weren’t careful and they caught you._

Calm down, V. They’re children.

Armin holds a hand out. “Eren, that’s enough. Think about it for a second. We can talk this through, we don’t need to provoke, or fight.” He looks at me and I focus on his innocent face. He’s everything but a threat.

Levi hasn’t moved an inch, however; I can see him from the corner of my eye. He’s observing the scene from his seat, leaned on the table, arms crossed. I know I can’t take _him_ down. The kids, perhaps, even if all of them together might prove a bit… difficult. In any case, not the way to go. I relax my shoulders.

“You don’t know a single thing about me except what you thought you heard from your officers’ conversation,” I say, forcing myself to be calm.

“I know that you murdered innocent people.”

“They were not innocent to me,” I yell. Well, here goes being calm.

A door slams open behind us.

“Hey! What is all this noise about? Some people need to rest!” I hear Hange protest. “Oh.” She sighs. “He heard us, and had to run his loud mouth, eh?”

“Yes,” Levi says.

“Ok, Victoria?” she asks. I can hear her footsteps. She comes to face me, turning her back to Eren. “It’s really unfortunate that he heard, but it’s not a reason to attack him. He’s a teenager. He does this all the time, can’t control his temper or his mouth.”

I had learnt to shut _my_ mouth when I was that age. “He’s a teenager who thinks he can judge me, a kid, who doesn’t know shit about life but walks around like he’s some fucking Chosen One. He thinks he can insult me in my own _home_ , after I gave him my food.”

“What?”

Jean runs to the squad leader. “He called her a murderer.”

“And I’d do it again,” Eren adds, his voice low.

I will _end_ him.

Armin looks at his friend, utterly shocked. “Eren, no!”

“Unhand me!” I tell Mikasa, who tightens her lock. I have to make her release me before the other Victoria takes the reins. I really don’t want to hurt her. “I said, unhand me.” I can feel the world going blurry. If I don’t free myself now, a massacre is going to happen. I manage to push her arm away; she gasps, but regains control of me. This girl is stronger than she should be.

Half a second later, Levi appears in front of me, arms still crossed. Mikasa is pulling my arms back, and the sharp pain in my shoulder triggers even louder alarms. “She will not let go and you know it,” he says. Again, I use all of my strength to try and free myself. “Do you have a death wish?” Levi asks, curling his lips in disgust.

“Oh, you have no idea,” I snarl.

“She’ll break your other arm first,” is his only answer.

 _Dangerdangerdangerdanger_. No. No. I can’t lose control now. _Breathe_. Focus on the anger. Not the threat. I direct all my attention to the steely eyes fixated on my face.

“This is on you,” I spit. “You couldn’t just be careful and make sure nobody was listening to you when you told her. It wasn’t a difficult request: don’t tell anyone.”

“Sorry.”

Large, red hot, anger. “No, you’re not. You’re not even sorry he heard you. Perhaps you’re mildly annoyed that he said something because now you have to deal with this situation and you don’t know where it’s going to go, but you’re not ‘sorry’.”

He doesn’t answer, and Mikasa’s grip tightens even more. This is not going to end well.

I see a lamp. I smell leather. I feel my hair tickling my cheek. I hear the water in the fountain. I taste rum on my tongue.

_Breathe._

Other Victoria recedes back into the deepest parts of myself. I feel my body relax and the world is back into focus. “Okay, I won’t touch your precious boy. She can let go.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

He gestures Mikasa to free me; she hesitates, but obeys the order and I take a few steps back, to show I’m definitely done trying to attack a child.

Then Levi calmly walks to Eren, looks at him, and sends his foot into his stomach. Historia lets out a high-pitched scream. Armin buries his face in his hands, and Mikasa runs to Eren again, but she doesn’t reach him before a second kick lands on his chin.

I have a feeling that these aren’t the hardest blows he could have thrown, but they still cause a serious nosebleed. The kid sits, stunned.

Levi takes a handkerchief out of his pocket. “One for eavesdropping on a private conversation between your commanding officers, another for insulting our host. Now shut your mouth, so we can have a conversation without any yelling.” He throws the handkerchief into Eren’s face. “Wipe that blood. Can’t even spy on us properly, misses details, makes a mess,” he mumbles under his breath.

Well at least this has quieted everybody down, including the cacophony in my head. Hange starts speaking.

“Let’s make all of this a bit clearer, shall we? About ten years ago, the military encountered a drop in new recruits numbers, because of the very real risk of dying if the trainees ended up in the Survey Corps. Either the Corps stopped expeditions, or we found a way to recruit more people. Erwin, he wasn’t commander at the time, suggested they deploy a large-scale recruitment campaign. The idea was to incite young men and women to join all branches of the military. How heroic it was to defend the walls, how prestigious the MP was… with dances, music, free food and drinks. The works.

The success exceeded everyone’s expectations, and it was renewed. Periodically, the show would take to the roads and stop in the different districts, and in the villages. About two years in, a new artist joined. Former trainee, she brought her knowledge of 3DMG to the dance routines. I always heard it said that she _knew_ what the audience wanted; she designed several variations of a show that toured everywhere, and even gave performances for the nobility. Her name was Victoria Feuerbach. People waited for the show to come to their village. I’ve personally never seen it, to my regret.”

They’re all looking at me, now. I could just confirm and not add anything, but if I want them to understand, I have to give them the whole picture. Might as well spill the truth, V. It’s time.

“That’s… part of the truth,” I tell them. “Let’s start with the beginning. I was born in Trost, but my mother died and my father moved the family to the country for ‘better air’. We landed in Kassle, shithole-upon-nowhere, 150 souls and a bit. Sheep dung and mud wherever you went. Father gave up on raising me and my sister; he did have a lot of work, being a woodworker, but I think he just wasn’t interested. An old woman in the village took pity and showed me how to get by on my own. She used to be a courtesan, before being cast away for getting older. She taught me how to sew and cook, but also how to do small talk, how to flatter, how to be liked, and, of course, how to dance. I really didn’t want to be a farmer, didn’t want to spend the rest of my life up to my knees in brown shit. Only other prospects for a girl like me were tavern dancer, hoping to make my way to the capital one day, or the military. That wasn’t much of a choice, but it was better than having none at all.”

I reach for the bottle and take a swig of the rum.

“I joined when I was thirteen. Completed training, not top of the class, but almost. My forte was always hand-to-hand combat, with or without weapons, and the informal skill of making people like me. I was decent at the rest, and not half bad at vertical manoeuvring, but… I lacked the proper reverence for authority. I had gone through all of this to join the Survey Corps, so I did. I had convinced myself that I could make a difference. About one week before the first expedition I should have been on, I was injured trying to win a very stupid bet. Fight on the roof,” I add. _Fucking idiot kid_. “Last one to stand wins, and the others do their chores for them. Girl said I had no chance of beating her, and of course I couldn’t bear this sort of provocation. I slipped on a broken tile, fell into the field where we’d been learning to build defence walls with wooden stakes. One of them went right through my body, just under the left shoulder blade. Came out clean on the other side. Missed my lung by almost nothing.” I slip the dress off my shoulder to show them the scar tissue. “I lost blood, it got infected… I blacked out for a long time, but eventually it healed. I wanted it to heal, anyway. I didn’t give my body a choice,” I add, rolling the shoulder.

“But I couldn’t use 3DM gear properly anymore. And I’ll never be able to. Can’t carry my own weight on this side; rather inconvenient. I didn’t have many options left. And then, I was approached by officers of the Military Police Brigade, said there was a special branch I could join, where I'd be useful, and wouldn't have to use gear. At first, I only needed to step up as the replacement of a dancer for the recruitment fairs.”

“So, you were still part of the military at that point?” Jean asks.

“I was… something in between.” I take another sip of liquor. “Officially, I had been discharged. But that’s not the interesting part of the story : the posting as a dancer was a cover. The real mission was to identify, locate and eliminate dissidents, people who protested too loudly. They promised money, protection for my little sister, a house within wall Sina. I accepted. I’d been trained to kill, and who would have suspected me? Small, injured, an artist. I killed a lot of people on their behalf. Sometimes I didn’t even know their names. Rich people in the cities, angry heads of rebellions in the villages… They sent the show to places where there were reports of discontent in the population, mostly in the capital, sometimes in villages, to keep up the charade. They were very happy with my performances, both on stage and behind the scenes; the called me their “little flame”, said I was working for the good of mankind.”

“So you _were_ Little Flame,” Levi says, his tone even. “Nobody ever figured out how exactly you got so close to the victims and their circles.”

I give a joyless grin. “I was _invited_. I _got myself_ invited, distracting them with dances and laughter and small talk. They wanted me there; little did they know they were asking for death to dine at their table. I used knives in dark corners and poison in drinks. The MP botched the investigation, worst case scenario if it was someone rich enough to matter, staff got blamed. I stopped counting after the fifth target.”

“Why did you obey?” Hange asks.

“I had material comfort, more protection and power that I’d ever had, I thought I was free and I believed I was doing my duty, making a difference. Also,” I add, licking my lips, “I could still dance. Being acclaimed on stage is a powerful addiction. It made me think people loved me.” I smirk. “I was an idiot.” I look at the faces around me, drawn, tired, and a lot less happy to be in my company. “Above all, I was protecting Askal, my little sister. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her. Lie, dance, kill, get killed. And I’d do it all over again, I don’t care how bad it makes me seem. Make of that what you will.”

Nobody really dares look back at me. Can’t blame them, I wouldn’t look back either. Only Levi’s eyes remain fixated on my face, a still, dispassionate gaze that tells me nothing about what he’s thinking. The uneasy silence stretches as I look at the half empty bottle in my hand.

Armin breaks it. “That explains why you obeyed. You had a safe position; but why hide here, why not get out with the others and go back to the capital, after Maria fell?”

“I saw the truth of what they were asking me to do. It came late; I lied to myself for a long time, before meeting someone who opened my eyes. What do you think happened when I understood that instead of serving the greater good, I was, and had always been, the devil’s little helper? My entire belief system, values, everything, came crashing down, and I couldn’t obey anymore. And the moment I refused to play their game, the instant I refused to kill the target I had been assigned, the little power I thought I had was gone. They knew exactly how to keep me under control : they threatened my sister.” I look away from Armin’s eyes, but it’s Historia’s face that’s in my line of sight next. She’s even paler than before, her lips tightly shut, her hands clasped together. “Perks of the job was that I knew many useful people. I placed her under the protection of someone powerful enough that the MP wouldn’t dare touch him. And when I saw the opportunity to make everyone believe I was dead, I took it. I didn’t have to obey them anymore, and Askal was even safer for it. I always planned to walk out of here someday. I just never did.”

“If you did walk out now, what would you do?”

I feel a smile curl up my lips. “Find my sister. Then rain hell onto the shitstains who think they run the show while everyone else starves and dies around them.” And I’ll spare no one. It doesn’t matter who they are.

I hear several chuckles, then Hange’s arm comes and drapes itself around my shoulders. I tense up. “Right answer, Vic. That’s exactly what we wanted to hear. Can we trust you not to lie anymore, though?”

I look into her eyes; she’s lifted her glasses on her forehead, and I can see blueish circles of exhaustion above her cheekbones. “That’s for you to decide.”

“I have a question,” she adds, getting her face closer to mine and I struggle not to recoil or send my forehead into her nose. 

“Yes?”

“The show. Your show. Specifically, that dance. I don't understand how people got distracted by… a _dance_. And I don't like it, when there's something I don't understand.”

I almost sigh, relieved. If that’s the extent of their interrogation, I won’t have to lie too much. “People are always desperate for a diversion. Anything that puts reality in the background, they’ll take. I don’t think you guys can understand, the stakes are too high for you if you ignore what the world is like, but within the walls, where everything is relatively safe, it’s different. Or it was, anyway.” I pause when Hange straightens up, but she gestures me to continue explaining. “I worked with what was already there,” I say. “Hope, anger, sorrow, and this terrible dream all humans have that perhaps, someday, they will be the hero everyone sings for. I would know, it was my shattered dream I pieced back together with the help of my dancers and musicians, making every single person in the audience a Chosen One, if they wanted to.”

“Chosen ones?” Armin asks.

Connie nods. He seems eager to share his opinion. “Yes, it was this whole… like a ceremony. They asked beforehand, who wanted to join, who considered it, and she was probably told, and on the last night, they were… handpicked.”

“I don’t understand,” Historia whispers.

“I saw it once, from far away. I was a child and still remember the evening. It gave everyone this feeling of being powerful, of finally having agency in our destiny. We were told that from our prison, we could still conquer the world and bring glory to mankind again. Even me, from a small village; I could make my family proud, if I joined the military. Protect the population, protect the Walls, or reconquer land : anyone could make a difference.”

I smile. “I really did a good job of telling that story, didn’t I? That’s because I believed in it.”

“And it was this song?” Historia asks.

“Not only,” I answer. “I had built an entire show on hope, hope of being the one to save all of humanity.” _I used a folk song to make it relatable. Drums to make it powerful. A choir to make it sound like a prayer._

“I wanted the will-o-wisp to choose me, I wanted to be part of this,” Connie adds in a whisper. I look at the incredulous faces around us. “I guess you can’t get it unless you see it,” he says

I lower my eyes and see the little shapes I’ve carved into the wooden table with the tip of my kitchen knife.

Flames.

“Play it,” I tell him. All eyes turn to me. I get up, look at my dress; I can destroy this one. “You said you knew the tune well. The will-o-wisp.”

“Yes,” Hange whispers. “I though you’d never offer.”

He stammers. “Yeah, but… It won’t be as good as the musicians, and I only have the flute, and – “

“Do it,” Levi says.

“You want to see it too?” Hange asks excitedly.

“I’ve seen it already. Years ago. But I know they won’t shut up until they do, and we all want this to be over.”

I nod back. Yeah, we do. At least I’ll get the song out of my system. Deep down, I’ve been wanting to dance it since yesterday.

Eren is now glowering from his corner of the cave, eyes fixated on his feet.

“Are you sure?” Historia asks me. “You don’t have to.”

I look at her and smile slightly. Thank you, little one. Thank you for asking. “Yes, I’m sure. I want all of you to see how easy it is to be distracted while someone else pulls the strings. He knows,” I say, jutting my chin towards Connie. “He even remembers the song, to this day. It was the third song out of five, but it’s this one that sticks out.”

“I’m not sure if – “

“Play it!” I repeat, taking a few steps back to have enough room to move.

“Just play the song,” Mikasa whispers.


	9. One by One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that was the inspiration for Victoria's dance : [Will-O'-Wisps - Brandon Fiechter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q_EDH0GcN_w)

Victoria walked around the table, blowing out most of the candles, keeping only three that she set down on the floor. Then she took off her shoes, put a knee to the ground and spoke, her voice echoing loudly in the cave.

“The people had prayed to be released, had cleansed their sins in the river of life, and the worthy had survived. Deep under the ground, the spirit of fire watched them and granted them their wish. He sent his own child to guide and inspire the lost humans. He blew on embers, and from his scorching breath was born… the will-o-wisp.”

Slowly, the first notes rose up from the flute, and she unfolded from the ground. The music, hesitant at first, became louder. Behind half-closed eyelids, Levi watched the responses of everyone around him as Victoria started dancing. Connie was displaying a level of concentration nobody imagined he’d be capable of, Armin and Historia were entranced already, Jean was trying to maintain an air of indifference and failing, Hange was smiling widely; only Mikasa remained truly disinterested, and Eren was still staring at his feet. Levi focused his attention on Victoria again.

He hadn’t lied to her, he had not recognized her at all, and even after reading that she had been performing in this village when Maria fell, he hadn’t been sure that she was the same person. He barely remembered seeing the show, it had been some time ago, and he was never really interested in this sort of entertainment anyway. He usually tried to close his ears to the lewd comments from his comrades, when a dancer appeared; if he didn’t mind swearing one bit, vulgarity towards women was another thing entirely. But what he did remember, strikingly, was how silent the audience had become that evening, when a younger Victoria had started dancing _this_ song for a ceremony of some sort. No more whistling or name calling, no beckoning the slight silhouette to come closer.

He was pulled away from his hazy memories by a sharp ripping sound – she had torn the sleeves off her dress, and her now naked arms twitched like wicks. He watched her rise high, her ankles straining. Then she opened her eyes and looked through them all.

“Who will overcome fear and follow the river of fire? Those who think they are worthy, raise your hands, and wait for the will-o-wisp.”

He knew very well that her tricks would work on most people here, just like they had worked on everyone else. She was right in saying that people wanted distraction, and the combination of candles, haunting music and serpentine motions could fixate any audience’s attention on the dancer rather than the disgusting real world. Twisting her body into an impossible curve, Victoria ripped the rest of her dress, uncovering her legs. Levi remembered that there had been patterns drawn on them, at the time. Tonight, only flickering shadows stood out on her pale skin.

“You only have one step to take, one move to make. Hold out your hand for the will-o-wisp.”

Again, she rose towards the sky. He felt someone move – a hand shot up. Historia. Not surprising at all.

Victoria slowed down, weaved herself closer to them; he reined in a shiver when she when walked past him and a loose shred of fabric hanging from her dress brushed against his arm. The girl followed the dancer, holding her head high, her eyes wide open. As they walked away, another hand. Armin.

Of course.

Victoria led him away too. Levi was wondering who would be next, when Hange got up. Victoria ignored her, and beckoned to Jean who had raised his hand.

Levi almost sighed; this was getting too long. She had proven her point now, she could very well stop and tell them all to go to hell, like she would be entitled to. And yet, she kept dancing, her sinewy legs holding up her body on tiptoes like it weighed nothing, the muscles of her back rippling as she held out her arms.

He leaned his back on the edge of the table and saw Hange raise a hesitant hand; she smiled when Victoria, pieces of dress flying around her, her fingers fluttering in the air, came to get her. He watched, and considered raising his hand too. What would happen, would she be surprised? Would his soldiers wonder what the hell was going on with him?

Victoria froze. _Too late._ She lifted her head ever so slightly, and looked right into his eyes. He forced himself not to move an inch. Was she expecting him to react? Her mouth twitched.

The music stopped and she collapsed to the ground, limbs tangled, head low, hair falling over her face; someone gasped. Levi realized he had been holding his breath, and he exhaled quietly. Last time, Erwin had asked him what he’d thought of it all, and he had shrugged. He would do the same with Hange, if she asked today. The truth was, he wasn’t even capable of telling anyone what he thought of it; it wasn’t something he was interested in, he didn’t care, and he didn’t know. All he knew right now was that he was parched and he needed a fucking drink.

\---

I stay on the ground, absolutely still; the only sound I hear is that of my own breathing. My body feels at ease, my mind at peace.

I unfold arms and legs and get up, head high, shreds of dress barely covering my body. A single droplet of sweat rolls down my back, making me shiver. I look at them, all of them, completely silent. I’ve never heard applause after this song. Not a cheer, not a cry, never. They clapped at the other ones, at the finale, but the will-o-wisp? Silence, always. And the wide eyes of the people at my feet.

An infinite sadness washes over me, sending its cold fist into my stomach. This song has sent so many to their deaths, and when it didn’t, I was stripped of my clothes in front of commanders and peasants alike, making myself vulnerable and small, until they stopped being careful and I could strike in the darkness.

How many have I killed? I should have counted. I should have made it matter.

The sensation of imminent, inescapable danger hits me at once. I’ve never danced like this, I know. I was not performing for them; I was vulnerable, this was not a stage. It felt so good, it felt so pure, like the first times I showed it to people and they were captivated by… me; but it’s wrong, it’s impossible for me to let it happen again. I can’t afford this. And I certainly can’t let myself be vulnerable, or _She_ will appear again.

Trying to hide the dizziness, I slip my shoes back on and walk past everyone to reach the stairs.

What have I done? I’ve revealed my secret to someone else. I brought people into my cave and they forced me to show what I wanted to keep hidden. Eren’s right; I’m a murderer. A bad apple. I’m their enemy, and now that they’ve seen me weak, they will catch me. _Kill them_ , the voice whispers. _Kill them all._ I run up the stairs before I lash out.

I reach the village, out of breath, a sharp pain in my side. The sun has set and the sky is already ink blue, a large moon rising above the empty land.

Serves me right, thinking I could become who I was again. Look at where we are now. Everything is ruined. I buried myself here to not let anyone see that person again, not even me. It was peaceful, without her.

But no, I had to lose control and reach for my crown again, craving to be admired again, to have people look at me with something else than lust in their eyes.  
I know why I yielded. I know why I showed them. I wanted to make them look at me in awe.

_You don’t deserve to be admired. You don’t deserve this power, not after what you’ve done, not after all those deaths. You haven’t even begun to atone for all your sins. You haven’t earned people’s applause, not for this dance, not as Victoria. Victoria should have died, Victoria is as good as dead, in a cave, buried alive, where she belongs._

A light breeze blows hair into my face. What should I do now? My eyes wander to the wood pile. Might as well do something useful.

One by one, I chop logs. Get log, place it correctly, grab sledgehammer, raise arms, strike.

One after the other. Like the recruits who followed the will-o-wisp.

One. By. One.

Like the ones I killed. Who probably deserved it, but how could I know?

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

Like the farm boys who thought I was _that_ kind of girl.

Like the trainee who had all but pushed me off the roof, making me fall onto the stakes. One by one, went her fingers. Everyone in the barracks turned a blind eye, I still don’t know why.

 _Broken wings._  
Will-o-wisp.  
Little flame.

They took my blades. Told me to dance. Told me to kill in the dark.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

At least I wasn’t pitied anymore. I was adored as Will-o-wisp and feared as Little Flame. I sold my soul to be wonderful and loved, but it was all an illusion. Because I am not wonderful. _And you will never be. You are not broken wings, you are not will-o-wisp, you are not little flame. You are Victoria, and you are nothing._

I put the hammer over my shoulder. Someone is coming. I look from the corner of my eye and see Levi approaching the wood pile, all geared up.

“What do you want?”

He doesn’t answer and folds his arms over his chest, watching me. I’m used to having eyes all over myself, but it’s unsettling, this way he has of staring, as if what he’s looking at isn’t even here. I lift the sledgehammer and get ready to continue with my work

“Your left arm,” he says.

“What about it?” _Thwack_.

“You said you couldn’t use it.”

“I said I couldn’t lift my own weight with it. I can use the arm.” _Thwack_.

“So, you can fight.”

“Not anyone using 3DMG. That’s why they made me an assassin. I can defend myself against an ordinary human, provided he keeps both feet on the ground.” _Thwack_.

He remains silent for a minute. “You’re not telling us everything.”

I drop the hammer to the ground and wipe my forehead, turning towards him. He’s still standing very straight, arms crossed over his chest. The moonlight casts an elongated shadow of his body deformed by the shape of the sheaths at his hips. He’s not asking.

“Of course, I’m not telling you everything.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“What I’m hiding?” I smile when he nods curtly. “Depends. You’re going to threaten me in my own home again some time soon?”

He narrows his eyes. “No.”

“Sure? Cause I made it very clear that I am not on the good guys’ side.”

“Ts. I’m not sure that we’re the good guys, and you’re not on anyone’s side. Not anymore.” He shifts the weight of his body onto his right leg; his shadow moves accordingly.

I look down, I can’t let him see what hearing this does to me. “Clean slate, eh?” I ask, pushing a small pebble with the tip of my shoe.

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

I stifle the feeling of hope already making its way inside me. _There is no forgiveness for you._ “And you think chosen boy down there will be happy about you not killing me while you have the opportunity?”

“He doesn’t get to decide.”

“Then who does?” I snap back. “You?” I get no answer. “And that’s what you’ve decided, then? To let the murderer in the cave live?”

He still hasn’t looked away from me, and I know my neck and face are getting hot from a strange mix of anger and shame. “We’ve all had to make shit choices to protect those who are weaker than us.” He pauses. “What you did before doesn’t matter to me, but I need to know how much of a threat you are today.”

There’s an urge inside me to tell him, reveal what’s left of my secret, but I resist. Nobody can know. Not this. “To them? None at all.”

He unfolds his arms and looks at the sky. “How would you have defended yourself, if Mikasa hadn’t let go?” I shrug; I don’t know how to answer this question. He looks me over, gravely. “And if I attacked you now, what would happen?”

“That’s why you geared up?” I ask, pointing at the swords. “Afraid of me?”

He shakes his head, then asks again. “What would happen?”

“Perhaps it would turn nasty, perhaps not. I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.” I have to shut my mouth now, or I’ll end up blabbering and telling him everything.

“I don’t understand what that means.”

“But that’s the thing, really, you don’t need to understand, and I don’t have to explain. Before I got cornered, pushed into having to defend myself, did I do one thing that was even mildly threatening to _any_ of you?” He keeps silent. “Well?”

“No,” he whispers, eventually.

“Then that’s your answer. Don’t corner me, and everything will be fine. Don’t make me feel like I have no way out, no other option left than to bash brains out.”

“Because you would?”

I nod. “Because I would. And if that poses too much of a risk for you, if I’m more dangerous than the military police, than the titans,” I chuckle, “then leave, I’m not keeping you against your will.”

He frowns. “You’re not more dangerous than titans.”

 _What_? “Yeah, that was… that was a joke. A bad one, granted. Still not to be taken literally.”

He ignores my last words and looks away again, at a demolished house this time. “We’ll be out of your hair soon. We need to come up with a diversion big enough to get through the checkpoints at the doors. River is out of the question, as is going up the wall.”

I nod. “Understood. I’ll make myself scarce, it’s safer for everyone.”

 _Danger_. _On your left_. I whip my head around so fast that the bones in my neck pop loudly.

“What?” Levi asks, already tensing up. The next instant, the ground starts to rumble, and three giant, horrible shapes appear in the distance. They’re running. He swears under his breath and takes out his blades. My hands close around the sledgehammer handle. Instinct. “Are you insane?” he yells. “Get back.”

He zips up onto a roof. Soon, the stench is unbearable. I break into a run, as far from the incoming titans as possible, still carrying my hammer like the idiot I am, the lamp in my other hand. It is a cacophony of shrieks inside my head; I am completely at the mercy of these monsters, unable to use gear even if I had mine with me. _Threat! React to it! Attack it!_ I can’t attack this. _You’re in danger._

I see a shape spinning in the night sky, the glint of a blade in the moonlight. A titan falls, making the entire village tremble.

_Behind you._

I whirl around, and see a titan advancing towards the house hiding the entrance to the cave, its mouth gaping.

No, not the house, not the garden. That monstrosity is going to smash my crops and destroy my path to safety, my only way out, with its vile, deformed feet. My vision is blurring already. There has to be a way to stop this, stop it, make it change directions. My gaze falls onto the lamp, still burning. It hasn’t rained in a while; most of the houses have thatched roofs. Working out the odds would be too long, I spin the lamp and launch it onto a house. My eyes fly from titan to roof, counting excruciatingly long seconds. And then – a trail of flames. The entire roof is soon blazing, covered in flames higher than the chimney. The titan stops in its tracks, turns his head, looks at the fire.

Then at me.

 _Shit_.

The ground shakes again; Levi just got another. Only one left standing, and it’s staring right at me, with its two empty, cruel eyes, above a round, ugly nose. The flames are dancing in the black pupils. I don’t even know if it’s making a sound, I can’t hear anything except the ear-piercing orders Other V is sending. At least, I saved the food and the house. I won’t be able to go back, or eat any of it, but then, does it really matter? Amidst the chaos, my world goes still; _this is what I should have been doing._ Facing monsters. Facing death.

Would I have died the very first day? Would I have made it through the first expeditions and become a veteran? Would I have served under _his_ orders, at some point?

This is what mankind is fighting against, by the sheer persistence of a handful of soldiers with a death wish, people that so many within those walls despise and want gone. And they don’t care about not being needed. They go out, again and again, they fight, and they kill. Day in, day out.

I stand there, alone, a half-naked statue, staring a monster down. I look up at the moon, silent judge of my shame. A sharp, lifelike memory of my sister dances before my eyes. She’s smiling, telling me how proud she is that I’m ready to die for humanity.

What would she have to say now? If I somehow survive this, I’m leaving the cave. It’s time.

At last, I allow the certitude of an imminent death to invade every inch of my being. A hand is hovering over my head, ready to pick me up. In a second, everything will go black, perhaps forever. Probably forever.

\---

Levi wondered for a minute after his first kill why the hell three of them had found their way to this stupid village at night. Days were long, at this time of the year, that could be it. He didn’t waste more time thinking it over, he would ask Hange, question would keep her busy for a bit. He focused on the second titan, six meters. They looked even uglier in the moonlight, he thought. The half-destroyed houses made it harder to find somewhere appropriate to send his grapple into, but he hooked into the titan’s shoulder, flew around it, and sliced, two precise, forceful blows. “Acting less tough, now, stink-ass,” he muttered. Messing up this kill was impossible. He whirled off the reeking body onto a roof and looked around for the third one.

He spotted it, four meters, walking in a straight line towards the house where the cave was hidden. Damn it, that thing was going to destroy everything there. He shook his blades and mapped a route. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a white shape. What the –? Was he seeing ghosts, now? No, it was only Victoria. The shreds of dress didn’t cover much of her body and her pale skin shone brightly under the moon. She was… what the fuck was she doing? He saw her bend her arm, then throw something far above her head. A lamp? It landed in the middle of a roof, in the opposite direction from the cave.

Ah; not bad. Unlikely to work, though. He focused his attention on the titan again. Yeah. Definitely uglier at night. The sudden red glow the whole village was plunged in made him turn his head once more. The roof _had_ caught fire and had become a beacon of light and warmth that attracted the monster’s eye. It turned around and started walking to the roof.

No. The fire was not what had caught its attention. It was Victoria. He tensed up; from where he stood, he couldn’t see the expression on her face, but since she wasn’t moving, or trying to run away, he knew what was happening; he could picture the paralyzing terror spreading to her features, turning her to stone. He’d witnessed it too many times.

“Run,” he yelled at her. “Idiot! Run!”

Either she didn’t hear him, or she was utterly unable to move, because still she remained there, both feet on the shattered pavement, her face lifted towards the sky.

Fuck, the woman was going to get herself eaten. He sprung and reached the titan as it was lifting a hand above Victoria’s head. She still hadn’t moved; she looked at the large fingers, then closed her eyes. No crying? No calling for help?

There was no time to think about why. He spun and sliced the hand off; as it fell to the ground, not far from Victoria, he saw her lift the sledgehammer. Was she trying to… go after the titan with it?

The absurdity of her reaction almost made him lose his balance. Almost. He concentrated again and cut through the titan’s nape. The body fell heavily, reducing a house to rubble.

As he emerged from the pestilential steam, Levi saw that Victoria had barely backed away, and she was still holding the hammer.

“What the fuck was that?” he yelled. “You wanted to get yourself killed?” Her body was radiating an intense heat, he could feel it as he got closer. He reached out to slap the fear out of her, but her hand darted through the air and deflected the course of his arm, landing a small smack on his wrist.

She turned her head and he recoiled instinctively. Her eyes wide open, she was staring right through him. Her irises were two black pits in her drawn face, her skin so white it looked translucent. In her eyes, a tinge of insanity; was it terror? It disappeared instantly. She blinked twice, then lifted her head slowly to look at the flaming roof. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

The woman was unhinged, it was the only explanation for her actions. He pushed away the unease he felt growing inside him. Instead, he loaded his gaze and his voice with harshness. “That’s what happens when you’re cornered? You freeze in fear?”

Again, she laid eyes on him, scanning every inch of his face with the same haunted stare she’d had after the dance. Her chest was heaving, her lips slightly parted as she breathed heavily. He repressed a shiver.

“Fear?” she all but whispered. “No, not fear. There’s no more fear when I don’t have a way out.”


	10. The Chosen

I lift my finger and smudge the dark paste onto my eyelids, then lean back in the chair to judge the result. That’s a bit too much... I haven’t done this makeup in a long time, and it shows.

A head appears in the door; Ophelia, my singer, asks excitedly, “You’re ready?”

“Not quite.”

“They’re growing impatient!”

“I know. I can hear them. Waiting is part of the show.” She nods and disappears again.

I pick up the jar of bright red body paint and draw long flames licking my arms. What has gotten into me? Yeah, I’d made a promise to get out of the cave for good if I survived the attack in the village, but did I really have to do it _that_ way? My eyes fall onto a piece of paper on the dressing table.

“For three nights only! The will-o-wisp will perform at the Duck and Carp tavern!”

I can’t help smiling as I remember Hange’s face when I’d put the small leaflet under her eyes on the kitchen table, back in the cave.

“What is this?” she’d asked.

“You needed a distraction to leave the district. With police all over the tavern, there will be nobody left at the gate checkpoint.”

Levi had raised an eyebrow. “Why would the police be interested in being at that tavern?”

“Three nights. First one, I don’t think people will really believe it. They’ll say it’s to attract drinkers, that it’s some barkeep’s lie to save his livelihood. Second night, people will have spread the word. Third night, they will certainly send troops to monitor my little show, in case it becomes a source of disruption.” I had smiled. "And they'll be right. On the third night, people will be pissed to have police everywhere, particularly on this side of the district, and I'll encourage the discontent. I'll start a fight, something big, make it grow into a small riot and they will have to send everyone they have, leaving the door almost unattended.”

“Are you sure?”

"The good citizens of this district pay good money on top of their taxes to make sure their lives aren't disturbed by us drunkards and thugs. Who do you think the police will choose to serve? The ones who directly pay for their booze, or some distant officer and his annoying orders to monitor a gate? Plus with a bit of luck ther will be some money promised for my head, if the news have reached the capital that it is, indeed, me." They had found nothing to answer. “There will be two covered carts waiting outside the warehouse. Post one or two of yours near the tavern to spot when it starts going south, then leave.”

They thought for a minute, looking at each other.

“You cover will be blown,” Hange had said.

 _No shit._ “High time it was, I can’t just hide forever. And it’s for a good cause, isn’t it?”

Ultimately, it was Levi who made the call. “All right. We’ll take it. It’s better than what we have, which is nothing.”

And it had been a hell of a week, making sure everything was more or less ready… When I talked about it to Ophelia, her first reaction had been to stare.

“Do you think you’re able to sing all those parts?” I’d asked again.

“But… that’s insane! Sure, I can sing this, and the guys know the music, any half decent musician does, but you’ll need two other dancers.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know anyone who can learn these by the end of the week.”

“I’m just asking you to sing, leave the dancing to me, I’ll do without the supporting roles.”

“You’re going to dance all five pieces?”

Let’s be honest, it was _funny_ to see her think this through. “Yup.”

“… How?”

“I’ve done it before.”

“With the… special equipment and all?”

“Yes, I still have it.”

She’d frowned even harder. “What do you mean, you still have it? You know how this was choreographed, right?”

“I do. I created them.”

Her mouth had stayed open for a solid minute. “So, you’re… you… No!”

“Yes, I am.”

“But why? Why live here like this? You were famous, revered, why dance here under a fake name, and in _this_ shithole of all places?”

“I made some decisions that weren’t… excellent.”

“And you’ve decided to come out of retirement now? Here? With me?”

“I figured I could make up for the money I made you guys lose last time. We’ll be giving them the entire show. So, yes, or no?”

She had stared at me for a bit, then started laughing. “Of course it’s yes! I’ll start rehearsing now. I can’t miss one note; I’m going to share the stage with the will-o-wisp!”

“Not that I want to curb your enthusiasm or anything, but I’m overrated.”

And here I am now, examining myself in the cracked mirror, body covered in painted flames, face made up, for the first Chosen Ones show in years. I finish my face and take a step back to see all of myself. My dark eyes look even harder with the thick layer of black liner. I’ve put my hair up, pins strategically placed to be able to release it strand by strand during the steps, until the last piece where I’ll let it cascade down my back. My costume changes are ready, my old gear is there too. I’ve wiped it clean but couldn’t make myself try it on. It’s not like I have enough room to do the figures in the tavern, so I’ll just wave the blades dramatically and pretend to fly. It’s all pretend, anyway.

“What will you do, after we’re gone?” Historia had asked when we laid out the plan to the kids. “Will you let yourself be captured and be brought to prison?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I think I’ll just take another fake name and find another place to live until Maria is sealed.”

I had told her the truth. Two nights from now, I’ll be alone again, unless I make a drastic decision.

The crowd is cheering loudly and starting to sing rude songs, off-key. Time to get out there, V.

I slip a brown tunic on and look at myself one last time. For once, I recognize the small, wispy woman in the mirror, with the proud lip line and the painted limbs, golden brown curls framing sharp cheekbones. She winks at me.

This is who I am.

\------

Okay, so thinking nobody would believe the leaflet and that the first evening would have only mild success was… a mistake. The audience is as rowdy as ever. It doesn’t help that the government distributed free beer. Anything to keep the people oblivious of what’s really going on.

The stage is dark and they don’t see me when I walk out onto it. I stand very straight, chest slightly puffed up, head to the side, a thin smile on my lips. One of the musicians blows his horn, another does a drum roll. The room falls silent.

Ophelia speaks, loud and clear, from the dark.

“Imprisoned. Shackled. Buried. The people cried, and cried again. Hope? Hope was lost. Hope was gone. The light had been turned off for years, and yet the people cried for freedom.”

A little kid, the barkeep’s daughter, starts lighting up one candle in three around the stage. The audience whispers when they catch glimpse of my silhouette.

“They cried, they begged to be freed.”

The music starts. Low, powerful horns.

“The spirit of Earth heard them and began her work to release them from their envelope of pain.”

This one is easy. Very little figures or spinning. It passes in a blur, the forceful sounds of the brass covering any creaking the wooden stage produces when I dance. My body moves easily, every step falling into place like clockwork. I’ve spent so many hours creating, rehearsing and performing these, I could do it without even thinking.

When the music dies, I retreat backstage without waiting for the applause, free a few locks of hair and put on a blue dress. This one makes moving a little trickier: it’s longer, with a weighted skirt to give majesty and flow to the spins. But the piece is short…

I wait for Ophelia to speak. “But the spirit of Earth spent her life force before she could cleanse mankind of the filth it came from. The spirit of Water rose up and gave her power to make the people worthy of their freedom.”

The music for this one is unbelievably fast-paced. She starts chanting. The kid lights up more of the candles. I wait. Wait… and

I spin, spin, faster and faster, springing up into the air every time the drums beat. My feet barely touch the ground, I feel the hem of the skirt rising, higher and higher, above my knees. I fly from one side of the stage to the other, fixating my eyes onto the flame of a lamp, on the wall opposite the room. I remember the number of times I fell, creating this one… My dancers used to hate me for even coming up with it. There were three of us, at the time, spinning madly across the stage, skirts brushing against one another. Abruptly, the chanting, the music, the spinning, all come to a stop.

This one is the shortest of all.

I salute. The crowd is barely controllable. From the corner of my eye, I can spot a few police. I refrain from turning a bit to look at the table where Levi and Hange are seated. I had insisted at least one of them see the whole thing, to have an idea of how long it lasts, and Hange had made Levi tag along.

I have to continue the show. It’s time for the will-o-wisp. I run back, let more of my hair down, and get into a black dress.

All of the candles have been lit now, and I’m bathing in the golden hue of the flickering flames; my hair looks like it’s been set ablaze, and I haven’t even revealed the painted flames licking my body yet.

As soon as the first notes are played, the room falls into an eerie silence. I don’t hear Ophelia tell the story of the birth of the will-o-wisp. I dance, barely paying attention to what I’m doing. I’m home, with this song. This is mine, it was always mine, I never let anyone else dance it with me. I pull at the sleeves and let them fall to the floor, revealing my flaming arms.

“… hold out your hand for the will-o-wisp,” Ophelia says.

I’ve paid a couple people in the audience to raise their hands, but I soon realize it was unnecessary. I cannot choose everyone, there’s just not enough room, not enough time in the song. I guide some of them, the ones that don’t seem too drunk, one by one to the front row. Slowly, I peel off the rest of the dress, waver a little, then freeze, my painted skin glowing in the candlelight.

I fall to the ground.

As expected, there’s no applause, no comments, no whispers. Until someone whistles rudely. I lift an eyelid, to see a policeman leering at me. He’s unceremoniously kicked out by the customers.

While the candles are being replaced by brighter lamps, I quickly wipe off most of the paint and hurry to clad myself in the last dress, a tight-fitting white slip that will get ruined by the paint.

Ophelia speaks loudly. “The Chosen Ones are now ready to meet the spirit of wind, who gives the wings that takes mankind to freedom. Do not fear, for she will grant you power beyond dreams.”

Drums and flutes for this one. Short, but lot of fluttering and arm figures.

Jumps, of course, I’m the wind, now. Between steps, I attach the gear to myself. Straps. Belts. Heavy, familiar sensation. Blades. It doesn’t slow me down one bit. The leather has grown hard and coarse with the years spent in a chest, but never mind.

Ophelia chants wordless incantations of hope. Soon, I’m ready, but it’s a bit too early, I was too fast. Never mind. I add a couple spins to stall.

Drumrolls, flutes, and… It’s over.

This time, there’s applause. I don’t have to change again and I stay, still as a statue, in the centre of the stage. I risk a glance to where the two survey corps officers are sitting. They’re not watching the doors or windows, not even the drunk patrons or the few military police members who are there. Both of them are staring right at me. From where I am, I can’t distinguish the expression on their faces, but their heads are definitely turned towards the stage. I would have liked to guess what they were thinking without having to ask later…

“The Chosen Ones are ready to fly into battle. Spreading their wings, they rise above mankind, opening the path to freedom!”

She begins singing. This was the most spectacular one, where I actually used the gear to fly. I pull the last pins out and my hair tumbles in my back, creating a halo around my face.

There used to be three of us, three Angels of Freedom, descending upon the crowd. It’s only me, now. The only one left, as always. They’re all gone, one by one, they left me, I left them.

The straps are hurting me even without actually suspending myself at things. I go through the motions of the song, smiling all the time, dying a little with every step.

At the end, instead of whirling in the air and landing on a pole, I only draw my now dulled blades. They’re hard to pull out, have been in there too long. I raise them high above my body, head tilted backwards. It’s a pathetic excuse for a show, I’m giving them. A single singer, a handful of amateur musicians, and a dancer who can’t do half her moves.

But it works. Hell, does it work… The audience explodes in cheers and bravos that I don’t deserve. I stay perfectly still, struggling to not cry. This is not about you, Victoria. This is about creating enough noise to have your guests escape safely and get back to saving the world. They were always going to leave, and you’ll stay behind. It’s not like you made them feel welcome anyway. This is all what your former glory can do. And you bet you’re going to do it properly.

My heart is thumping in my chest, the straps chafing painfully on my too soft skin. The sensation takes me back to that day, the last time I wore the gear, the day I found myself alone forever. By my own doing.

I open my eyes and watch the gleeful faces at my feet. I look further, and see Hange has stood up and is forcefully clapping, careful not to disturb her hood. Even Levi is perfunctorily tapping his right fingers onto his left palm, and he’s looking at me, I can tell he is.

The crowd is now chanting “Will-o-wisp! Will-o-wisp!” Some are trying to climb on the stage, and Other V ins't liking it; I have to leave this place before I collapse in tears or slice someone’s head off.

I bow deep, rise again, smile, wave, and turn around. I reach the dressing room and hear Ophelia explaining that I’m exhausted but will be back tomorrow for the same program. Not even taking the time to remove the makeup from my face or the residue of paint on my body, not even taking the gear or the dress off, I fling a cape over my shoulders, stumble into the street and hurry to the warehouse. 

Blindly, I run down the stairs, into the first underground corridor, and reach the stone passage. I light a small candle, and instead of making a left, I turn right, slip between boulders, and reach a landing, similar to the one on the opposite side of the cave. Except that here, there’s only the remains of metal stairs. The rest is in a heap somewhere, I’ve never tried to find the debris. At my feet, the darkness of the cave welcomes me. If I turn my head to the right, I’ll probably see where the last grapple I sent has chipped at the rock. But I don’t look, I stare into the dark. I fumble with the belt, but I can’t undo it my hands are shaking too much. I can feel heavy tears rolling down my cheeks. I should have done it without the gear. I don’t know what is real and what is memory as the sensation of the straps conjure up to my ears the cries of the people I left to die. Other Victoria is whispering over it all, telling me I’m the strongest of all, that’s how I survived. No, she’s wrong; _strong_ is not what I am. I’m a freak, a murderer, and I should rot in a cell. I sit on the landing, feet swaying into the dark, and I hug myself tightly, finally allowing tears to fall.


	11. Broken Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for this chapter : [Adagio for Strings 11 - Barber](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WAoLJ8GbA4Y)

I don’t know for how long I sit there, gazing into the thick, eternal darkness of the cave; long enough for the little candle to have consumed itself. The sound of footsteps wrenches me out of my morbid reverie. My fingers are sticky; I’ve scratched the old scar raw, hard enough to draw blood. I hear someone breathe behind me, and recognize his presence even before he speaks.

“Hey,” Levi says softly. “It’s only me, don’t get scared and jump.”

_I’m not going to jump. I’m too much of a coward to jump._

“We were looking for you. I told them all to go back to the cave and sleep, that I’d find you.”

_Looking for me. As if._

“I said that you were probably tucked away in a dark corner we didn’t know about.”

_There are many dark corners none of you know about._

He draws nearer; I can see boots from the corner of my eye. “We’ve timed the show, and how long it will take to drive the carts from the warehouse to the gate. It’s doable. We won’t be able to return the horses, so you should pay for them.”

_It doesn’t matter what happens to the horses._

“Oi, lost your tongue on that stage? That’s why you didn’t want to dance that thing, you use your legs and your voice is gone?”

_Shut up_. “How did you find me?” I whisper.

He places the lamp he was holding on the stone with a clink, and sits next to me. He leans forward, peering into the darkness.

“There’s always more than one way out of those holes. I looked around for a bit and found congealed wax right by the two big rocks, back there.” _That damn candle._ “What are you doing here?”

“Thinking.”

“Never thought of finding a thinking place that’s not right above a precipice?” _Why is he so noisy? Silence, for the love of all that’s holy in this land._ “What happened to the stairs?”

He noticed. Of course he would notice, and ask. “Why are you here?”

“Told you, went looking for you.”

“No, why are you here asking me questions when I clearly want to be left alone?”

The shadows the lamp cast on his face deepen the circles under his eyes and underline the sharpness of his features. He holds my furious gaze. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you alone.”

“How would you know?”

“You’ve been sat here contemplating this stunning landscape for more than two hours now,” he says, gesturing at the cave. “Even you don’t crave this sort of solitude that much.”

Why can’t he just leave? “Perhaps I do.”

“No, this is something else. It’s the day you reveal yourself to the world again, and you end it here. Not a chance this is just to think.” I don’t answer. There is not much that I can say that will really satiate his curiosity, unless I spill it all. “What happened here? What happened to the stairs, Victoria? Why do you have to use the long way instead of this one, and why did you push rocks to almost seal this passage?”

I could lie again. I could tell him to mind his own goddamn business. I could not answer and jump, or not answer and push him. He’d probably fly right back up and kill me. I wouldn’t have to live with my choices again, or decide who I want to be. No more lies. No more guilt. He could get rid of my sins for me.

I do none of those things. I quiet the everlasting whisper in my head that is always warning me of dangers, and let myself give in to the irrepressible urge to share what I’ve done. After all, perhaps he wouldn’t be horrified. Perhaps he could even find a plausible explanation to what happened here. Other V is shouting at me to not say a word, but I don’t listen to her. I’ve started speaking now. The floodgates are open. There’s no closing them again.

“The people who had chosen to stay and survive in the cave, they never left. Not really. They all died here, except me.” I sense him tense up and inhale sharply. “The mayor quit on us very early. He went up with the first groups, never to be heard of again, leaving us here. Titans on one side, starvation on the other. One of my dancers had left, the other stayed. People turned to us, to me. I was from the Corps, wasn’t I? I would know what to do, I would be able to defend them against the monsters. I was not. I tried showing them, explaining that I was unable to fight, that’s why I was a dancer in the first place. They didn’t listen, they needed to believe that something could be done, that someone would save them, and who better than the Will-o-wisp? We have faith in you, they said. You’re a hero. Faith…” my voice trails away. “In _me_. What a joke.” I let out a sharp laugh. “That faith wasn’t long lived. They soon realized I had been telling the truth, that I was useless, that I was letting them down, and they tried to turn me away, to chase me. I didn’t deserve their food anymore. Not only was I not a hero, but I was a liar, a leech.”

I turn my head to the left, towards him, towards the broken banister. “Yes, there used to be stairs here, the same as on the other side of the cave. I ran, I rushed up those stairs to flee. I had to take my chances with the outside world. Better than being stuck here. They followed,” I whisper, looking into the dark again. “As one man, a veritable mob, mouths foaming with rage. They wanted my blood, they wanted to make me pay for not being the hero they had tricked themselves into believing in.” I lick my dried lips quickly. I’m out of breath, remembering the race for my life. “I hooked into the ceiling,” I continue, pointing at a rock above our heads, “out of reach, and tried to reason with them. Fifty irate, half starved, light deprived villagers, shells of humans, they were. They were climbing on one another to catch me, jumping to try and reach my foot. The stairs started to creak. I warned them. I told them, the stairs are breaking, but they didn’t listen.”

I feel a thick warm tear roll down my cheek as the scene replays in my memory, clear as day.

“The iron linking the stairs to the landing twisted into an impossible shape, and it snapped. The stairs collapsed. The people fell. They all went tumbling to the ground.” I can still hear the shrieks of metal and the screams of terror. “I don’t know how many died on impact. A lot of them, I suppose. I jumped down, doubling my hooks in the rock, to carry as many of them up and away before the survivors trampled each other and they suffocated under the mass of bodies. I got near, they tried to grab my feet, my legs. I yelled at them to stop moving, stop climbing on each other, that I would get them, one by one, they had to wait, to pass me the children first. But they weren’t trying to be the first to be lifted away. They wanted to pull me down with them, to bury me in the heap of limbs. They were trying to catch me and beat me up, they were still hurling insults at me, blaming me for the stairs. That’s when –“ I tilt my head backwards and swallow. My mouth is dry. “That’s when I lost control. I don’t know what happened, something snapped inside me. I was risking my life to save them, straining my injured shoulder, doing things I thought I couldn’t, and they were still trying to kill me, the ungrateful pigs.” Terror shoots through me again, that powerful feeling of immediate danger. No, it’s gone, it’s in the past, you’re not in danger now. “I don’t remember exactly what I did. I remember drawing my swords. I have flashes sometimes, in my sleep. Blood everywhere, severed hands and heads, and cries, so many cries. I think I fainted, because I woke up several hours later on a pile of corpses, covered in blood that didn’t belong to me.”

I slightly turn my head to look at Levi. I have to see if he’s disgusted, angry, repulsed by my very existence. But his features have remained the same. Perhaps his eyes are slightly narrowed, or perhaps it’s the lamp casting yet another shadow. He hasn’t backed away from me, hasn’t drawn out a knife to execute the mass murderer sitting next to him. He holds my gaze, and without breaking eye contact I keep on telling the story of my sins. I wonder if he can see _Her_ in my eyes, because she’s here, filling me to the brim with fear, more and more of it as I ignore her warnings.

“At night, I carried them up the other side of the cave, and out. One by one. I did not use the stairs. With every child, adult or elder I hoisted up, my shoulder strained a bit more, but I didn’t stop. I flew all of them up and laid them out to rest just outside their beloved village. I soaked them in oil from the lamps and lit them up. I stayed and watched the pyre burn away. Then I walked back into the cave, to die here.” He still hasn’t turned away. “That was the last time I wore this,” I say, running my open hands over the straps hugging my body. “Until today.”

I fall silent again and lower my gaze to watch the flickering flame of the lamp. Levi doesn’t say a word. “That’s why I stay here. Who knows what will happen next time I lose control? Who will I slaughter mindlessly at the very minute I feel unable to escape danger? I am Victoria Feuerbach, who sent hundreds to die in the Survey Corps, sent dozens to an early grave for the royal government, and who murdered fifty innocent villager in a cave.”

I look at Levi again. His face seems a little less hard. _Less_ hard? “Still think I deserve a clean slate now?” I whisper. “Or you’re going to throw me in the cell I should have been in all this time?”

He pinches his lips. “They were going to kill you, and you defended yourself. You could have done nothing, and died. But you reacted and are alive now.”

I find nothing to answer. I don’t understand his reaction, and even if I’m relieved I haven’t been summarily executed for my crimes, it doesn’t feel like a resolution. I still have to pay for what I’ve done, I suppose… In any case, I understand now he won’t be the one to give neither absolution nor punishment. We sit in silence for a long time. I know I don’t have to tell him not to repeat this. Conversations had above the abyss in the middle of the night are not of the shareable sort, but I cannot reasonably expect that he’ll keep this for himself. It doesn’t matter to me anyway, not anymore. The light from the lamp is losing intensity, soon we will be in total darkness.

“We should go back,” he says, eventually.

“You’re probably right.”

I push myself up and take a few steps towards the passage, but my legs are weak and I stumble.

“You’re in no state to walk all the way back.”

“I don’t have much of a choice, I can’t sleep here.”

“We can go down this way,” he replies, tilting his head towards the bottom of the cave.

I stare at the dark and feel my body tense up. “I can’t. I’ll fall. I know I will.”

“I won’t.” He gets up as well, holds his left hand out, squeezes the trigger and shoots a grapple into the rock.

“Good for you,” I tell him, half shrugging. “I’ll meet you down there, if you wait up a bit.”

“Psh!” He covers the little distance between us in two steps, snakes his right arm around my waist, kicks the lamp off the ledge and jumps into the darkness.

We fall.

It takes all of my self-control to not scream, and even more to keep _Her_ from fighting back. I haven’t felt this sensation of flying in years, my insides tightened into a writhing knot of fear. He slows down our descent, stopping the freefall, his arm crushing my ribs. I’m terrified that I’ll slip, and my last memory will be of being afraid. It’s a long fall; I know it is. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around his body, holding on to him with all my might. _You are not in danger. You are safe. He will not drop you._ In reaction, his fingers dig deeper into my flesh.

We reach the ground sooner than I’d thought. Gently, our feet touch the cold stone. I stay frozen, unable to release my death grip.

_Let go. You are not a child. You are safe. Control._

I jerk backwards, shaking like a leaf in a windstorm.

“Th… Thank you.”

He zips the wire back. “Let’s get you back to your house.”

He grabs my elbow and urges me to walk. I don’t protest, but I’m so incredibly weak I could roll into a ball and sleep on the floor, if he let me.

_No. Not where they died._

Without wanting to, I walk faster, eager to leave now. Levi lets go of my arm. We cross the silent living area without a word. I’m not sure what time it is, but everybody else is sound asleep, I hope. We get to my hut, and he opens the door for me.

Why is he behaving this way? I struggle to understand. What have I done to deserve this? He could kill me that it wouldn’t change a thing –

Yes, it would. They’ve seen that my plan will work, and they need me to escape this godforsaken city. If I get injured, if I can’t dance, their chances to leave disappear. Someone has to look after me, since I’m the kind who spends hours teetering on the edge of a precipice. Useless, useless me. So now, he’s decided to keep an eye on me, make sure I keep my word for the next three days.

_I will keep my word, don’t worry. I’m not letting you down._

In a daze, I sit on my bed. Levi takes a cloth, soaks it in the water basin and hands it to me.

“Wipe your face.”

I obey. How pathetic am I? Can’t even take care of myself. I have to be able to dance all of the routine without getting thrown into this state of melancholy and fear again. I try to untie the harness, but my hands are still shaking, and I’m sure it’s stuck anyway. I’ll have to cut it open, it’s my only way out of this tangle of leather.

While I remove most of the dark trails left by makeup and tears from my cheeks, Levi hovers over me, tilts his head to the side, and proceeds to unclip the hooks on the straps. They don’t catch at all, they click open, one by one. As he slides the harness off me, his palms brush on the exposed skin of my shoulders and collarbones. I feel a punch in my chest, and shiver. I haven’t let anyone touch me in… _A scream. Pain. Someone holding me down._

He stops, looks at me, lifts a strand of hair and slowly, delicately, trails the scar under my left collarbone with the tip of his fingers.

I have almost stopped breathing. Somewhere inside me, the warning signals are shrieking with all their might. I try to stifle them. I don’t know what is happening, but it’s not dangerous. He is not a threat to me, never has been, and I have to convince myself of this. My hands go limp and the damp cloth falls at my feet. I can feel my entire body starting to shake, resisting an urge to strike. Other Victoria is rattling her cage.

I see my door. I feel a stone in my shoe. I taste plum liquor on my tongue. I hear my own shallow breathing. I smell leather.

_Breathe_.

He mumbles something between his teeth that I don’t understand. I don’t think it was meant for me. He has moved on to the clips on my hips and thighs, swiftly releasing them. He pulls the entire harness off me, gathers the sheathes and blades, and straightens up.

I look up. He seems like he’s about to say something, then reconsiders, lowering his gaze towards the gear in his hands.

“This hasn’t been properly maintained,” he says. I’m still staring. What was he touching my scars for? And why is he so interested in my gear? There’s a cacophony of contradicting orders in my head.

_Scream_. Don’t scream. _Say something_. Stay quiet. _What happened?_ He touched you. _He attacked you_. No, he didn’t. _Attack him back._ No, don’t move, wait. _Why is he here?_

_Why is he helping you?_

“I’ll have it in better shape by tomorrow evening.”

He spins around and leaves without another word for me.

Finally, I allow myself to breathe out. I did it. I stayed in control while I was more vulnerable than ever, while wearing this harness, after being in the air. I kept _Her_ in check. I can do this.

I stay frozen in place for a while, until the shaking recedes, then hoist myself up, walk to the basin and sink my entire head in the cold water.

\-----

“She said she killed fifty people?” Hange asked, making a face. “That’s not possible. She lied again.”

“I don’t think she was lying,” Levi responded. “It might not be what actually happened, but to her, it was the truth.”

“How do you explain it?”

“She said she blacked out and doesn’t remember, but woke up on a pile of dead people. She _was_ phased out when I found her. I stood there for a while, waiting for her to move, to do something. But nothing. She let the candle die out, sat there in the dark, muttering to herself.” He hadn’t mentioned to anyone the state Victoria had been in when they had faced titans in the village, that night, but he knew it was something very similar. There was something uncanny about the woman. 

Hange frowned. “It has been seen before. After a serious shock.”

“Something else. Her injury shouldn’t prevent her from doing anything. It shouldn’t even hurt.”

“How do you know?”

“I took a good look. Seems perfectly healed to me.”

“I’ll have to see for myself,” she whispered. “Wait… under what circumstances were you able to ‘take a good look’ at her shoulder?”

He shrugged. “Her gear was damaged and she was shaking too much to unfasten it. I took it off her, she wasn’t going to sleep in it.”

Hange narrowed her eyes, then smiled. “I see…” She chuckled. “And she let you, apparently. Well, I’ll be damned…”

“What the fuck are you talking about, four-eyes?” Levi snapped.

She inched her face closer to his, her grin widening. “Oh, come on, don’t be so defensive. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t know what’s you’re going on about.”

“And I thought you didn’t want to find out more about her.” He shrugged and took a sip from the steaming cup in his hand. That had been before. New elements had come into play since then. “In any case, we need to make sure she won’t suddenly decide not to go through with the plan, that she doesn’t do anything reckless, or loses control, or whatever it is. It’s a shame we have to leave, I would have liked to talk to her about this blacking out phenomenon…”

As curious as he was too, he knew he had to be the voice of reason here. Victoria remained unpredictable. “It’s hardly a priority, even if you find it interesting.”

“We could still ask her to leave with us.”

_Ah, here it is_. “We’ve talked about this already. What would you do with her?”

“We could get her through training again. Especially since you think nothing is actually wrong with her. Physically, that is.”

“Who’s ‘we’ in this scenario?”

“Well, if it turns out she’s really capable of killing more than fifty people during an episode, I think it’s going to have to be you.”

Levi cast her a deadpan stare. “Of course. How surprising.”

“You didn’t say no!”

He scoffed, finished his tea, and got up to leave. Indeed, he hadn’t said no.


	12. No Way Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victoria gets her hands dirty

I’m standing alone in the middle of the cave, going over what I had to do. Empty the pantry, kill the fires, empty the water tanks… The kids have put the houses back in order, swept every corner, cleaned both stoves, even the one we didn’t use. Even Sasha, who was finally able to sit and walk a bit with the makeshift crutches she made herself, insisted to help after joining us for dinner yesterday.

Everything is done. I pat the small pouch hanging from a string around my neck. It contains my money and my most prized earthly possessions : a letter from my sister and a little wooden figure of a dancer my father sculpted for me, years ago, before he died of the fever.

I take a long, sweeping look at the dark cave. I have no idea if I’ll be able to go back. I might be killed tonight, and I don’t want anything of mine left behind, not a trace of my presence here should be found.

I take one lamp, and cut the gas supply for the ones on the walls. The small flame in my hands is the only light here now. I walk to the back of the cave. Looking up, I can see another lamp, that has been set on the landing. Taking my time, I put a hand over the handle at my right hip. Wearing the gear is already starting to feel more familiar, almost comfortable since Levi’s intervention. “Try it,” he’d muttered, almost throwing it on the floor at my feet. To my relief, it’s the only thing he’s said to me since he left me in my hut, two nights ago.

I haven’t followed the advice, though. Not yet. I tighten my grip on the lamp, and hold up my right arm.

What if I fall?

_You will not fall_ , my sister’s voice whispers in my ear.

I set my jaw; and shoot. When the hook attaches to the rock, high above my head, I feel it resound in my entire body. I gather my strength and… go. As the wire reels up, I’m pulled off the ground.

Flying.

The sensation of hands grabbing at my feet makes me shudder and tense up. My balance goes off; I know I can’t compensate by launching a hook with my left arm.

No. It’s not real. Nobody’s here. You’re not in danger.

The lamp. The rock. The wire. The leather. _Breathe_.

I rectify my position, swing towards the rock and slam both feet onto it. Fuck, this went too fast. My left hand flies to stop my face from crashing onto the stone, and the lamp goes tumbling down. I’m in almost complete darkness now. Damn it. I can feel my heartrate spiking, my hands getting clammy.

Smell the rock, feel the straps, smell the leather. Breathe.

_If you open your hand, you fall._

No, I’m not going to fall. I’ve done this hundreds of times. Now is not then. Nobody is trying to get me. I feel out the rock with the tip of my foot, and find a small crevice. I shift my balance again, spread out on the stone wall. I caress the smooth, cold surface with my left palm.

“You’ve protected me all those years,” I whisper. “Don’t let me down now.”

I take one last deep breath, bend my knees and launch myself from the wall. I resume my ascension, eyes fixated on the little flame of the lamp waiting on the landing above my head.

I rise above it, almost all the way up to the ceiling, and release the wire. I set foot on the landing more gracefully than I would have imagined, detach the grapple and zip the wire back in. Almost as easy as if I had been doing it every day for years. I let out a deep sigh. Almost… except for the fact that Other V keeps sending me pictures and sensations of people trying to catch my ankles. Hardly sustainable if this happens every time. I’m not ready to do this, it’s obvious I’m not.

I pick up the lamp, and look down into the cave, perhaps for the last time. There’s only darkness. I turn around, and walk away.

I’ve barely passed between the two rocks blocking the passage that I see Historia tiptoeing towards me.

“What in all hells are you doing here?” I ask her.

“I wanted to speak with you,” she answers, staring at a spot behind my head.

I stare back, trying not to look too alarmed. “Do the others know you’re here?” She shakes her head. “Okay, you can tell me while we walk. They’ll be furious when they realize.” She falls into step behind me. “Alright, spill it, what do you want?”

“I wanted to ask you if you’d be willing to leave with us.”

This goddamn _KID_. “What would you do with someone like me? Slowing you down is all I’ll be able to do.”

“Not more than Sasha. You arranged transport for her.”

“Yeah, because she will be useful when she’s healed. I won’t.”

Her slim lips tighten. “Don’t say that,” she whispers.

I sigh. “I don’t know, little one.”

She looks up. “How did you call me?”

“Sorry, it slipped out.”

“Slipped out?”

I smile at her. “That’s how I’ve been calling you in my head since the beginning. It’s not meant to disparage you, quite the contrary. It was a nickname I had, for my sister. You two look a lot alike.”

Hesitantly, she smiles back. “I saw you putting your house in order. Why?” I don’t answer this one. “You expect to die up here tonight, don’t you? A way to atone, perhaps?”

It would be a good ending… “If that’s meant to happen, then it will happen.”

Again, she sets her lips. “Not if you come with us.”

“Fleeing with you is simply delaying the inevitable. I’m going to get myself killed, in this world.”

She completely ignores my statement. “Come find us at the gate, after the bar fight. I’ll make them wait for you. Don’t hide anymore, nobody should have to live like this. I want you to come with us. And I don’t think I’m the only one,” she adds in a whisper.

I stop walking. She does too. I scrutinize her face, carefully, letting Other V out for a second to sniff out the lie. “Who asked you to tell me this?”

“Nobody. I make my own decisions, now. And I _refuse_ to let you die here or go back to this cave.”

I’m left without anything to say. Could I do this? Go with them? What about… _Her_?

No, it’s too risky for everyone involved. I’ll stick to the plan and escape, and if I can’t, well… Goodbye, world. It’s easier that way, and I like easy. The hard path means having to confront everything in my memories and… No.

“I’ll think about it,” I lie. I resume the walk back to the warehouse. Historia doesn’t say another word, doesn’t try to argue some more.

When we walk outside, I rush her to the covered cart. I can see Hange glaring at us under her hood, but I shrug, trying to make her understand that I’m in no way responsible for this. Historia climbs into the cart, her hood over her eyes. “We’ll wait for you,” she whispers.

I don’t answer and almost run away towards the tavern. Well those were shitty goodbyes… I can’t let it bother me, though. Whatever happens, it’s likely that I’ll never see my singer ever again, and I spent more time with her than with all of them. Even if they shared my hidden life.

All of this made me late. I pick up the pace and reach the tavern.

Once there, I run into an overexcited Ophelia. Her cheeks are bright pink and her eyes are shining. “Victoria, you have no idea, there’s police everywhere! They haven’t said a word yet, but the place is filled with them flaunting their weapons.”

Weapons? “We talked about this,” I tell her. “I told you it was going to happen.”

She grabs my arm and whispers into my ear. “I’ve heard people say that general Zackly is here. Incognito! But that’s bullshit, is it?”

Him, unlikely, but his men? That’s possible. “Yeah, I’m sure it is,” I tell her. “Why would he come to see me perform? Ridiculous.”

Ophelia nods. “I thought so too.”

“Ophelia, you remember what we said, right? If this goes south, and it’s certainly going to, you need to leave at once. And get the guys to follow you. I don’t want anything bad to happen.”

“What about you?”

“I can take care of myself,” I say loudly. “Promise me that you’ll run.”

“I promise,” she says, pouting, “but everything will be fine.”

Everything will most certainly not be fine.

In any case, it’s high time we started the show. I change rapidly, hiding the pouch under my dress, and quietly walk out on stage. Ophelia was right. The place is teeming with uniformed men, haughtily ignoring the drunk patrons who are eyeing them.

I signal the musicians to start.

We go through the first four songs undisturbed. The crowd is noisy and rowdy, and an incredible amount of people raise their hands when I do the will-o-wisp, but apart from that, it could be any other show. I pick only the men I’ve paid to start the fight and a few burly ones drunk enough to just launch themselves into a brawl, and position them along the stage.

Just as the finale starts, as I’m standing at the very edge of the stage in my white tunic, considering using the gear, why not, the ceiling beam should hold, someone yells to stop the music and climbs on the stage.

“Police, enough of this. We’re shutting down this heresy of a show.”

I jut my chin up and walk to him. I am very small compared to this mountain of a man. “We still have one song to play, officer, and then we’ll stop.”

“This is blasphemy and sedition. Don’t you know what you’re advocating for with this? We will arrest you for disobeying the king’s orders and corrupting the people if you don’t stop this immediately.”

From the corner of my eye, I see movement in the line of henchmen. It’s all set in motion, now. I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to.

Tonight, I’m drawing the curtain.

I put on my most charming smile. “Sir, it’s only one song,” I tell the armed man. He puts his hands on his hips, towering over me. “It’s the last night of the fair, surely you wouldn’t deprive our fine citizens of their entertainment.” I make a sweeping gesture towards the audience, who approves loudly.

“I said : shut it down,” the policeman repeats. He signals his subordinates to get up. They all move and take positions : all around the stage, near the doors and windows, between the bar and the tables. My hired men don’t move an inch and keep staring above the men’s heads. The drunk customers, on the other hand, start protesting and getting up too. I need to stall a bit; they’re only trying to intimidate us. For the moment. “Now,” the man continues, “you’re going to be a nice obedient girl and come down this stage.” I raise an eyebrow. Who does this bathroom stain think he’s talking to? “Before that, you will hand over your illegally acquired equipment.” He grins. “Be careful, you’re going to cut yourself on the blades.”

Wrong tone, pig. “This is mine. I got it when I joined the Survey Corps.”

He throws his head backwards and laughs. “Well I knew they were desperate, but I don’t think they’d let a tramp like you enrol. Stop lying and give us the gear. I’m going to say it again : we’re shutting this down.”

The tension in the room grows thick. Some patrons are getting up to leave. One of them, however, decides to try and talk sense into the officer. He’s an older gentleman, always cleanly dressed, never drunk, always tips and even gives presents to Ophelia for her younger siblings. He gets up and walks calmly to the foot of the stage. “Please, officers, let us have this last song. It’s only innocent fun, and we don’t have that many opportunities to relax.”

Another policeman gets into the old man’s face. “Silence!” He then whacks him over the side of the head, sending the grandpa to the ground. I watch him fall heavily, and focus all my attention on the officer on stage. Protect the people, my arse. Drunk on power, those ones. Need to take them down a notch, will do them good.

“Just do as we say,” the officer tells me.

I click my tongue. “Nah. Don’t think so.” I turn to the band. “Play.”

They hesitate; I can see Ophelia holding her head high, ready to defend herself with bare hands if necessary. I knew she wouldn’t be sensible.

More and more people are leaving the tavern, now. They’ve understood that I’m not backing down.

The policeman points at the musicians. “If you play a single note, we’re arresting everyone here.” The crowd roars; they’re getting angry. Good.

The officer and I look ourselves up and down, in silence. His grin widens, his wet, chapped lips uncovering crooked teeth. Disgusting.

I smile back. “I can dance without music, you know.”

The grin disappears.

“That’s enough.” He slides the rifle off his shoulder. The henchmen in the crowd look towards me. Inside my head, the alarm sets off. _Danger_.

“Fine,” I say, bowing my head a little. “But I would like to know why the military police is arresting artists, now.”

“We’ll tell you all about it, Ms…”

“It’s on the leaflet.”

His face reddens. The room has fallen silent. I can feel all eyes on me, smell their fear and their surprise at seeing me defy authority from a rickety wooden stage.

“Give me. Your. Name.”

Slowly, I walk to him, eyes hooded, trying to make him understand how far below me I think he is. I lift my head, like I was taught. “My name is Victoria Feuerbach. You might know me better as the will-o-wisp.” His face tenses up. His certitude that I was a liar is being challenged. Perhaps he even got to know what my other alias was. “I will follow you, but I want everyone to remember what happened here. Remember who came to this small place to deprive the poor people of their merriment, calling it blasphemy. Who threatened artists trying to honour the soldiers risking their lives for us. Who hit an old man for daring to speak to them. Who does this police serve? Not you; not me.” I sweep the audience with an incensed gaze. They’re reaching their boiling point. “They came here to arrest a woman who was dancing for her heroes.”

People start mumbling angrily, and I lift my gaze towards the officer, smiling at him.

His face distorted by anger, he raises his hand to slap me. I barely have to curve my neck to dodge it, and the strength he had put in his movement makes him stumble. I laugh, jump back, pull out the blades and yell “Midnight.”

On cue, the henchmen each select a policeman and start hitting. Patrons join them; it takes a mere instant for chaos to prevail. The hideous officer in front of me is stringing curse words in my general direction, trying to give orders at the same time. I turn to Ophelia and the band. The musicians have left already, but she’s standing there, very still, her eyes darting from one side of the tavern to the other. “Run! Ophelia, run!”

But she doesn’t move. Damn it! I have to get her out of here before it gets really ugly. I take her hand and pull her behind me towards the changing room. She follows, numbed out. Something catches my foot, and I fall, my chin hitting the wood. Ophelia screams. “RUN!” I yell again.

I turn around on the ground and see the officer, his hand over my ankle.

_Danger._

I kick him hard with my other heel, but he doesn’t let go. _Get up. Strike back._

“Now you wish you’d been quieter, eh?” he says, laughing. He gets on his feet, closes his hand over my wrist and pulls me up. “Miss Victoria, you’re going to come with me.” Danger.

I spit in his eye.

Stupidly, he lets go of me to wipe his face. Kick to the groin, palm strike to the nose, knee to his stomach. Doubled over, he groans and fumbles for his weapon.

“That’s what you’re looking for?” I ask him, tapping his head with the butt of his rifle. He swears again, blood from his nose trickling into his mouth. “I’m not going to kill you today, but if I survive this, I’ll remember your ugly face.” I land a strong and precise blow on his head and he falls, knocked out.

Ophelia is gone; hopefully she’s hiding or she made it out. Don’t have time to check. I run towards the rest of the fight. There’s chairs being thrown at people, lamps toppled over among broken glass, the bartender is trying to protect his bottles, some people are trying to run away, others running after the police. Someone has pulled the older gentleman out of harm’s way. No sign of Levi anywhere in the mayhem; If everything went according to plan, he’s long gone already.

I step to the side to avoid a bottle being thrown in my direction. The fight is getting out of control. I can hear orders to call reinforcement being screamed at other policemen outside.

Rifles are being shot. At the people. Over a _show_. What has this world come to?

I have to get out of here.

Some policemen have noticed me and are closing in on where I’m standing.

_Window_.

I jump on a table and launch myself out of a closed window, and roll onto the pavement. Holy hell; that hurt.

I don’t take time to get rid of the shards of glass in my limbs and break into a run.

Run where? There’s police everywhere, coming towards the tavern. People in the streets have started fighting.

What have I done?

There’s no chance in hell I’ll make it to the warehouse unseen. Here goes my escape…

_Danger. Strike back. Run._

What do I do?

I can see fire. I can smell sweat. I can feel the glass in my shoulder. I can hear bullets. I can taste blood. Breathe.

_I want you to come with us_ , a voice echoes in my head among the alarms and the screams of the Other one. _Please. I’m not the only one. Meet us at the gate_.

Shit. I should have said yes. It’s probably too late, now. I launch a hook into a chimney and get to a roof. I can’t really see the gate from here.

_I’ll make them wait for you. Come with us._

I hope you were sincere, little one.

\------

“Alright,” Armin said, flicking the reins, “first cart with Sasha has gone through. We’re next.”

“No,” Historia replied.

All eyes turned to her. “What do you mean, no?” Hange whispered.

“I told Victoria we’d wait for her.”

“You what?”

“We’re not leaving her here.”

“You should have told us about this! We can’t; the risk is too big.”

“If we go through this gate without her, I’ll jump off this carriage.”

Mikasa took the girl by the shoulders and shook her. “Do you realize what you’re saying? You would risk our lives for this woman? What possessed you to say that to her?”

Historia clenched her teeth. “I made a promise. Would you be able to live, knowing she’s dead on the streets or back into this horrible cave, alone?”

From his horse, Levi whisper-shouted towards the cart : “Oi! What’s going on here? You’re making too much noise.”

Armin looked at the captain, his face ashen in the moonlight. “Historia wants to wait for Victoria.”

“She what? No, we can’t, we have to leave now.”

“You would leave her behind,” Historia whispered back, “to face all of this alone?” She gestured to the city behind them, echoing with the sounds of rifles being fired.

“She made her choice to stay,” the captain answered.

“I don’t remember anyone here offering her one.”

Armin stared at his feet. Mikasa remained expressionless. Hange cringed, then looked at Levi. “She’s not wrong. And Vic _is_ kinda fighting for us back there.”

Levi looked at the young blonde girl, then whispered a curse under his breath. “We can’t afford to wait. I’ll go get her. You drive, we’ll catch up.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m holding you responsible for this,” he said, looking at Hange. “You better hope you’re right about her".

Historia sat back in the cart, and Hange smiled. “You wouldn’t even consider going back if you thought we weren’t,” she said.

Levi swore again, turned the horse around and galloped away from the wall.

\-----

Fucking damn it. I’m surrounded. I definitely don’t measure up to them, even with gear, not with only one functional arm and this stupid, crippling fear I have every time I get up in the air. If I make it out of here I need to get this under control. And I can’t take them one by one, there's too many of them.

Other V is banging at the door, ripping her hair out, screaming at my inability to remove myself from this situation. But there must be a way to survive still. If I don’t control this, there’s really no chance I can survive this. Whatever _She_ did might work with some desperate, hungry villagers, not with two squads of highly trained and very pissed off members of the military’s fucking elite.

I run as fast as I can, firing the rifle haphazardly. I was never much of a markswoman anyway. I keep following the wall, I’ll reach this damned gate soon. I hope.

On my left, a large group of soldiers is closing in on me. On my right, a house. They’re firing too. I roll behind a water trough to catch my breath. Yeah. Gonna have to admit I’m done for. I hear hooves on the pavement. Well if they have horses, I certainly won’t make it out alive. Might as well –

“Victoria!” _That voice…_ Not danger. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I lift my head up to see Levi on a horse, holding out a hand towards me. I take it, he pulls me up like I weigh nothing and I find myself holding on to him, already racing away, bullets whistling at my ears. Historia kept her promise. Better. _Someone came back for me._ I find some sort of balance behind the saddle, twist to find a target, and aim at the soldiers pursuing us. Shit, I’m out of ammo.

“No bullets left,” I yell at Levi. He says something back that I don’t understand, probably some swearing.

“I said, take the reins!” he shouts, and the next instant he’s up in the air.

I don’t exactly know how I manage to get control of the horse, but I do. I urge the poor animal on, trying to keep an eye on the captain’s position so he can find me easily when he decides to jump back on. I don’t really _see_ what is happening, but the number of bullets being fired at me diminishes greatly, and there’s less and less shouting. Soon, I see Levi swing from a tree, and he lands behind me. The horse whinnies, but I make it keep the speed. “Did you kill them?” I ask.

“No.” I hear an array of swearwords. “I sure hope you’re sure of the choice you’ve made, ‘cause I’m not letting you forget this.”

I start laughing like a madwoman. The danger alone was already close to making me lose my mind, but him saying this… Me, sure of something? When hell freezes over, perhaps. I make the choice that keeps me alive. It has worked so far.

Leg muscles taunt around the horse, yelling at it, I race to the gate. I have to get myself out of harm’s way soon. We gallop through it without being stopped. On the road ahead of us, there’s a small lamp dangling at the back of a cart.

I can see the moon, I can smell the horse, I can taste blood in my mouth, I can hear the sound of hooves and Levi’s voice as he curses up a storm, I can feel his arm around my waist –

Wait.

I can hear the sound of hooves behind us.

_Danger._

I look over my shoulder to see I don’t know how many armed men on horseback, hard on our heels.

The horse is exhausted, I can’t make it go faster. I feel Levi moving; I think he’s trying to stand ? He jumps off the horse and lands on the cart. He disappears under the tarp and starts handing out rifles.

“Armin, faster!” Hange yells.

I see Historia holding out her hand for me. “No, don’t, stay back!” I scream at her. Fucking idiot kid. The wagon's front wheels sink in a hole in the path and the whole thing jolts. Historia’s eyes widen as she realizes she’s losing balance. Hange tries to catch her, but too late, I barely have time to steer the horse away so I don’t trample the girl. I pull on the reins hard and turn the horse around. She’s on the path, almost knocked out. The kids are screaming behind me.

_She’s in danger._

A primal scream rises up from the depths of my guts. I race to her and manage to get there before the soldiers. “Your hand!” I close my fingers around her small wrist and hoist her up to sit her in front of me.

“I knew you’d come,” she whispers, smiling. She’s covered in dirt but seems unharmed.

I have to get her to the cart, now. I hear the breaths of the irate horses and men behind me. When I reach the cart, I hoist Historia over with my left arm. I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder, but I can’t let go, not now, she’s almost safe.

_Drop her and run._

No.

“Take her!” I cry out to someone, anyone. Mikasa reaches out and grabs Historia.

The next second, the horse collapses under me. I jump off, barely escaping being crushed under its inanimate mass.

_Run._

I hear Historia scream my name behind me, her voice drowned out in the rattle of wheels.

I get up and face the twenty men closing in on me, their horses steaming at the mouth.

_Fight._


	13. Trial by Fire

I wake up from a deep, dreamless slumber feeling like my limbs have been ripped off from my body and reattached in the wrong places. My tongue has the texture of parchment paper, and I can taste blood in my mouth. I’m extremely cold, why is it so cold here, and where the hell am I anyway?

Rough fabric chafes at the skin of my left arm; I feel it, and realize it’s been bandaged almost all the way to the shoulder. The pain is dull but persistent. Feels like a burn. I don’t remember burning myself.

I force my eyes open despite wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep. I have to understand where I am, what I’m doing here. Strangely enough, I hear no alarm bells inside my skull, no persistent voice telling me to run, or fight.

_Fight_.

That’s the last thing I remember.

The… the horse fell. I had to jump. I was on foot, and they were closing in on me and…

There’s no use, I’m not going to remember. My arm hurts. I must have done something, or I wouldn’t be in such a sorry state.

I try to call for someone; my throat clenches. How long ago was my last drink? I hoist myself up, swing my legs over the side of the bed and carefully place my feet on the ground. The clothes aren’t mine. Where’s my dress? Where’s my gear?

I take a deep breath, and get up. The bleak room shakes, spins, and I fall to the ground. I grasp at the air, flailing my arms. My hand touches something, seems made of wood, I pull, and the bedstand comes crashing down on my head.

Screw this, I’m not getting up again.

I hear a door open, footsteps. Someone’s in the room. “Hey,” Sasha’s voice says. “You awake?”

“Sasha? Is that you?”

“Yeah. Can you get up?”

“In a minute.” I turn around on the floor and see the girl pointing a rifle at me. What the hell?

“Wait, I’m going to get someone.”

“Don’t bother, I’ll manage to stand up, eventually.” My voice is hoarse, it doesn’t sound like me at all. “What time is it?”

“Five in the morning. I’m supposed to go get someone if you wake up.”

“Whatever for?” I gather all my strength and willpower, and sit up from the floor. Then, I lean on the bed, and pull the rest of my body up and roll onto the mattress. There. I’m back in the relative warmth of the bed.

“Just in case you…”

“In case I what?” She doesn’t answer. “Don’t tell me, I don’t care. Go get someone, don’t go get someone, suit yourself. I just want to sleep. Let me sleep,” I mutter. I can already feel my consciousness fading away. I don’t hear her leave the room.

\--

Now there’s a hand shaking me. “Hey!” Let me sleep, I said. “Hey, Victoria! Wake up!” Who’s yelling, for Sina’s sake?

I roll over, half opening an eyelid, and catch a glimpse of Hange’s frowned forehead. I open both eyes and grunt. There’s a bit more light than before, in the room, but it’s still so cold.

“Good morning!” Hange says, a smile plastered on her face. I grunt again. “Can you sit up?” I sigh, and make an attempt. She leans closer to help me, and gently pulls up the pillow behind my back. The world immediately starts spinning again. I feel so weak, so sick. I close my eyes again.

Hange shoves a steaming cup right under my nose. “Drink,” she says. I shake my head; I can feel my stomach on my lips, if anything gets inside my mouth I’m going to puke my guts out. “You’re severely dehydrated, that’s why you’re feeling so crappy. You have to drink something. It’s been three days.”

Three days out? Hell. She’s right, of course she is. I let her tilt the cup to my lips, and take a small, small sip. My stomach heaves when I swallow the hot liquid. “The fuck is this?”

“It’s… tea?”

“Who boils tea? I can’t drink that. Give me water.”

Hange stares at the brownish drink then puts the cup down and gestures to someone else. “Armin, go get fresh water.” I hadn’t seen him there. I hear the door open and close. I sigh again, then pull the blanket over my shoulders. I’m so, so cold. I have to stay awake long enough to drink, perhaps even eat. But sleep seems so nice, so peaceful…

“How are you feeling?” Hange asks.

“Like a dozen cannons rolled over me.” I look at my bandaged arm. “What happened?”

She frowns harder.

“Oh come on. Just tell me already. I don’t remember anything after jumping off my horse, and all those soldiers coming towards me.”

The door opens again; Armin walks in with a jug and a cup. Sets it on the bedside table. “Thank you,” Hange says. He takes a step back and stands, silent. “You can leave us now,” the squad leader adds, with a slight smile. The young boy hesitates, pours a cup of water, hands it to me. “I said leave us,” Hange repeats. The boy’s shoulders drop, and he turns around. As he’s closing the door, I hear him whispering something to someone else.

I focus on the cup in my hands, tilt my head back and force myself to drink all of it. I don’t know if it’s the water or the bad taste in my mouth, but it’s a real struggle to swallow it. As soon as I’m done, Hange pours me a second one. This one will have to wait a bit…

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on? Why did Sasha have a rifle and was guarding my door? Why is Armin looking at me like I ate a baby or something? What happened to my arm, and why was I knocked out for three entire days?”

Hange gets up, walks a few steps in this tiny, shabby room. “You tell me you don’t remember a thing?” I make a noise. Not enough energy to repeat myself. “Nothing after you fell from the horse?”

“I didn’t _fall_ , it died under me and I jumped. But yeah. I was on the ground, and the soldiers were getting close. That’s the last thing I remember.” I chug the water down. Shit, that’s really gross. I rub a hand over my face. My skin feels gritty, my hair is disgusting.

“You killed an entire squad of military police,” she says, her voice low.

_I what now_? “That’s impossible,” I tell her. “I was on foot, they had horses…”

“I saw it with my own eyes. Well, I’m not entirely sure of the details, but… you were on the ground, we saw that. Then you took a canister of fuel in one hand, a lamp that had fallen from the cart in the other, and… you lit the soldiers up.” I don’t know what my face looks like, but I sure don’t believe her. “They were surrounding you, then there were flames and they started running away, their uniforms and horses on fire.”

I look at my arm. Well, at least it’s consistent with the burns.

“Then,” Hange continues, “Jean and Levi went after you. You had managed to get on a horse, and were trying to throw the rest of the men to the floor. You just went and put your hands into the flames. And they… well they had to restrain you to stop you from throwing yourself into the fires. You wouldn’t let them get you back, though.”

I bury my face into my hands. It happened again. _She_ took over. “Did I hurt anyone on our side?” I mutter from behind my palms.

“What?”

I take a deep breath. “Did I hurt anyone on our side?”

“I… I don’t think you even knew that there were sides, at this point. We can’t hold you responsible for –“

“Answer the question,” I tell her, lifting my head up.

She recoils when her eyes meet mine, but she speaks nonetheless. “You punched Levi in the face, then held Jean in a chokehold. Levi got you off him and managed to take your swords. We had to tie you up with wire and got you back onto the cart. You thrashed and yelled for a while, trying to kick, and even bite anyone who got near. You weren’t there, you didn’t recognize anyone. After a while, you lost consciousness, we treated your arm and put you here to sleep it off.”

I let myself fall back onto the bed. I had told them. I knew I couldn’t do this. _She_ had warned me not to go, not to risk it, and I didn’t listen. I should have listened. Hope you’re happy, Other V; you win. Again.

“Hey,” Hange whispers, “don’t fall back asleep. You need to eat.”

“Leave me alone.”

“No, no I will not. I want to understand what that was. I have… so many questions!”

“I said, leave me alone. I don’t want to answer your questions. I don’t need to understand, I know, I’ve always known I have this… this devil in me, whispering, and sometimes I can’t contain it. I told Levi about the last time it happened, but I think he didn’t believe me. And here we are now.”

She sits back on the chair. “You did get us out of Chlorba. You risked your life for it. And nobody followed us, not after what you did. The forest is probably still burning, but we made it here safely thanks to you.”

I turn around to face the wall. “Just go away.”

She keeps talking for a bit, but I tune her out. Forest still burning. A teenager in a chokehold. Punched _Levi_ in the _face_.

At least they found a way to stop me, and nobody actually died. Well, nobody that didn’t come after me. I hide my face deeper in the pillow. I should have known. Since that night in the cave, since _She_ came out the first time, I haven’t been fit to just exist around other humans for an extended period of time. _She_ finds them all dangerous, to an extent, and I had been under so much tension that _She_ was bound to come out at some point. If Historia hadn’t fallen, if the horse hadn’t died, perhaps that I… No, Victoria, there’s no point in this. I happened, and it happened because you decided to go after them, to listen to your stupid little heart who was telling you that you had a chance at life again. And now I can’t hear the alarms anymore. _She’_ s asleep. I could be under threat that she wouldn’t even react.

I barely hear Hange walk out of the room. I have to get better soon, and leave this place. _She_ might be asleep for now, but I don’t know when she’ll be back. I can’t risk it.

\--

I wake up again to light knocking at my door. Without waiting for an answer, the visitor walks in.

“Victoria?” I open my eyes. That’s Historia’s voice. It’s night time, now. The girl is standing in the doorway, the corridor’s light creating a halo around her. She closes the door behind her; the warm halo shrinks, yellow, flickering light now concentrated on her face, lit up from under by a small candle on a tray. She tiptoes to the bed, places the tray on the covers, and sits on the chair. “I know you’re awake. I can see your eyes.”

I sit up, not looking at her. “I’m not sure you’re supposed to be alone in here with me,” I mutter.

“I don’t care. I heard squad leader Hange say you hadn’t eaten. You have to eat.” She holds out a piece of bread.

“You know what I did, don’t you?”

“Yes. You saved my life. Eat.”

I reach out and take the bread. “No, I mean… I attacked Jean, and Levi.”

“They’ve seen worse,” she replies, brushing crumbs off her hand.

“That's doesn't change what I did." She shurgs. "Where are we?”

“I’m not saying another word until you’ve eaten this.”

Hesitantly, I bite into it. It’s a bit chewy, like it sat in a damp place all day. When I finish the first piece, she hands me another one. “We’re in the mountains. Sorry about the state of the bread, it was fresh yesterday, but we couldn’t wake you up.”

I accept the second piece of bread. My stomach is protesting, already cramping around the small amount I’ve forced down my throat, but she’s right. I can’t go without food forever. “So you saw what happened, the way I fought back?” I ask her.

“I saw a fire, there was shouting, then captain Levi and Jean brought you back all bound up in wire, then you were knocked out. When the captain carried you up here and Hange examined you, they weren't sure you'd even make it through the first night. So now you have to eat.” She pushes the tray closer to me. “And I wanted to talk to you.”

Her tone couldn't be any clearer; I'd be wasting my time trying to interrogate her further. “You should be in bed," I say.

“I can’t sleep anyway.” I consider the girl sitting on the very edge of the wooden chair, her small frame slightly shaking. “Are you at peace, now that you don’t have secrets anymore?”

My heart skips a beat and I divert my gaze to stare at the candle. “At peace? No, I can’t say that I’m at peace.”

“Then why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you show your true self?”

I take another chunk of bread, and start picking at it, throwing crumbs on the covers. “If you’re talking about the fight, that wasn’t intentional. And I don’t know if it was my true self.” I hope, from the bottom of my heart, that it’s not my true self.

“I meant when you danced for us, in the cave.”

_Oh. That._ I stare at the crumb I’m rolling between my fingers. “I think I wanted to feel like my old self again,” I tell her in a whisper. “The one I could be proud of, the one I was before I learnt that I wasn’t as good as I had believed. The one people admired.”

“And did it work?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it can’t work.” She remains silent, her fingernails scratching at the wooden chair. “Why are you asking this?”

“My dear friend Ymir…” her voice trails off. “She made me promise to live for myself.”

“Not a bad principle to live by, I have to agree.”

“But I don’t know what that really means. Do I have to tell everyone the whole truth?”

I lean back onto the pillow, my heart racing; I don’t know what to answer that child coming to me with all her questions, I’d hardly consider my advice to be reliable, particularly on such matters. “I suppose it depends on the truth and on who you’re telling it to.” I shrug. “I told Levi that I was a freak, a murderous monster, even before I imagined I’d come out of the cave.” She half smiles. “What truth are you carrying?”

“I feel that the others, they should know more about why I took a fake name.”

“They don’t need to know, if you don’t want to say anything. They have your name, that’s plenty information already, there’s no obligation for you to volunteer more.”

Her eyes shoot up. “I want to. But they’re already looking at me differently. I’m already a lot less nice, and – ”

“Does the way they look at you matter?”

She gives a slight smile. “Look who’s talking. Didn’t you just say you wanted to be admired?”

_Admired, worshipped, adored_. “That’s different, Historia. I don’t care about being liked, being liked makes one accessible, easy to be with, and I never, ever wanted that. If that’s how you were before and you suddenly changed, put yourself out of reach, of course everyone will adjust their behaviour. But those guys are your friends, they will understand.” She pinches her lips and nods; a strand of blonde hair slips from the ribbon on her head, and she slips it behind her ear. “You have time to figure out what it means to live for yourself. It’s not something one does every minute of ones life, but there will be moments where you have to make a choice between what people expect of you, and what you truly want to do, and that’s when you have to remember what your friend made you promise. It’s always you who has to live with the decisions you make. Have a good long think about it, and do what you want to do.”

She nods, then falls silent, staring at the tip of her boots. “I see,” she says eventually. “I think I understand.” She lifts her chin up. “So hiding was what you _wanted_ to do?” I let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I thought so…” she adds.

“Hey, little one. Don’t mind my ranting too much. I’ve been alone for so long, I wouldn’t know how to behave with actual friends. I don’t think I ever had any. My little sister used to confide in me, but never the other way around. I’m a solitary soul, I don’t know the first thing about genuine relationships with people.”

The girl keeps smiling. “Thank you, Victoria. I think I’ve made a decision. I hope that when the day comes, you can follow your own advice and make the right choice, too.” What is this kid talking about? She’s staring into my soul, with her soft, tired eyes. “I don’t know what happened for you to feel so much guilt and I don’t care what every one else might thin. I’m not afraid of you. You saved my life. I feel safe; safer than I’ve ever been.” She takes a deep breath. “I was never wanted, you know. My own mother… the only thing she ever told me was that she regretted I was alive. She wished she had killed me. Those were also her last words, even on the day I watched her die, the day I believed my life had also come to an end. Then my father, my real father, he made a bargain with the hitmen, he asked if I could be allowed to live if I changed my name and joined the Survey Corps, and never attracted attention to myself. That lie’s over, now.” She sighs again. “So yes, thank you, Victoria, for calling me your little one.”

_Flash of light. Red, red, hot, flames. Cries. A dark forest; I don’t know where I am. There’s a big, wide moon in the sky. Someone screams; is it me? It sounds like me. I’m falling. The moon glows. Pain, terrible pain in my shoulder. I fall. I can’t stop it, I’m falling. Pain._

I open my eyes and see Historia’s frown. “Are you alright?” she asks. “You stopped answering me.”

The little food I ate is threatening to come back out already. “Y… Yes. I’m tired, is all. Thank you for the food. I think I’ll sleep some more, now. Thank you,” I say again.


	14. The Value of Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victoria needs a hug, and isn't even offered tea.

I don’t know what time it is when I wake up next, if it’s only been one night or more, but there’s a new tray on the chair next to my bed, with a piece of flatbread and some dry cheese. There’s also an extra cup, with a little flower in it, and it makes me smile.

Today, I’m famished. The taste of the water hasn't improved one bit but I drink all of it. The rest of the tray gets eaten within the following ten minutes. I’m feeling a great lot better, almost not dizzy anymore, the pain from the burns present but not overwhelming.

I get up and walk around the room, and, success! I don’t fall. Still not exactly stable, but the more I stay up, the better it gets. Staying in bed won’t help with this anyway. I look around the small bedroom, covered in wallpaper that must have been nice, at some point in the past. The little light seeping through the closed shutters doesn't do much to hide the sorry state of my surroundings. The bed I was sleeping in is more of a cot, pushed in the corner to make more space. The fireplace is in no state to have an actual fire made in it without burning the entire building down. There’s a tall, battered dresser next to the window, and a narrow table with a chair that I know I’d better stay away from if I don’t want to find myself on the floor again. On the table, a chipped jug and an old basin, a scratchy towel, and an uneven piece of hard soap. On the chair, neatly folded clothes. The water is ice cold, and my washing up doesn’t last very long; my hair needs a wash too, but without hot water, I’m not risking catching my death. A braid will do. Upon closer examination, the clothes are all at least two size too big for me, the socks patched up, the undershirt's fabric rough on my skin. At least, they’ve been freshly laundered. I slip on all the layers of clothes to try and feel a little less cold, retrieve my boots, then walk to the window and open the shutters for some air.

A stunning view of the mountains greets me. A blanket of trees, deep green, almost black in the distance, spreads out for miles and miles. The sun is already past its highest point, it must be some time in the afternoon. I breathe in the crisp mountain air, and close my eyes, taking the time to savour the moment. There weren’t many bright mornings, in the cave. I hear voices, horses whinnying, wheels rolling. Laughter. If I ignore who the people speaking most certainly are, I can almost – almost – forget the series of events that brought me here.

Behind me, the door opens.

“I thought I’d heard you moving,” Hange says. “How are you feeling today?”

I turn around to smile at her. “Bandage needs changing, but, I’m as good as new.” My smile vanishes when I see the look on her face. “Something wrong?” She waves my concern away, and tries to relax her features. She takes off her glasses, wipes them on the shirttail sticking out of her trousers.

“Victoria, do you think you can handle a… difficult conversation? There’s many things we need to talk about, and you’ve been out a long time, and…”

I interrupt her. “You don’t have to say anything if you think I can’t be trusted.”

“Can’t be trusted? Ha! Victoria, what are you saying? Not only did you put your life on the line for us, it doesn’t matter whether we tell you what’s really going on or not, because Historia will, unless we have your door guarded day and night, and I’m not even sure it would be enough. She’s adamant that you’re… a good person.”

I repress a smile. “A good person…” _Thank you, little one_. I close the window and turn around again. “Can we at least get out of this room? Those walls are driving me crazy, and the air will do me good.”

“There’s benches in the garden,” Hange replies, “you’re still pretty weak, you might need to sit.”

I follow her down the stairs, through a wide living area where I spot a tired sofa, armchairs and tables, and out into what had been a vegetable garden, some time ago. High blades of grass tickle my bare ankles

“Nice house,” I mutter. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Unloading supplies, and Eren’s cleaning.”

“I don’t remember being that good with tidying and cleaning, at that age.”

She laughs. “That’s because you weren’t smacked on the head with a broom by Levi. You just wait a bit, he’s bound to forget you’re not under his command and will make you tidy something.”

“Now that would be an interesting thing to see, I almost wish he would make such an attempt!”

“Oh, believe me. It’s Levi, he will try.”

“Try what, four-eyes?”

I can’t help smiling when I hear this voice. Once again, he’s sneaked up behind me. I don’t even twitch, this time, and there are still no alarms whatsoever. _She’s_ quiet. Perhaps she’s gone for good… I stifle this idea and forbid myself to think about it.

“Ah, you’re here,” Hange says. “What were you doing?”

“Making sure they’re not dragging mud everywhere inside the house,” Levi answers. “Hey arsonist! Finally awake?”

“Arsonist?” Is he talking to me? I turn around, frowning. And wince when I see his face. There’s a purplish bruise on his chin, reaching up to his lower lip and already turning yellow. Did _I_ do that? “Oh, dear. I’m… I’m so sorry!”

“This?” he says, pointing at his face. “Eh, it’s fine.” He has a slight movement of the shoulders that I interpret as a half shrug. “Can we start already? We're talking here?”

“Yes. If we go inside you know the kids will try to hear the conversation, and I don’t want them witnessing Vic’s reaction,” Hange replies.

“My reaction to what?” What are they going to tell me that’s could be so triggering?

“There’s a certain number of things that we have to tell you,” Hange begins. “We believe we can trust you, as I said already, but you need to understand that once you get really involved in this, once you pick our side, there will be no backing out.

“Pick a side? Wait, I’m not joining the military again, ever.”

“We’re not asking you to.”

Okay… They’re going to start giving me orders, at some point, I just know it. “And I don’t even know what the sides are! Is it the Scouts against the army? Against the monarchy? Against titans?”

Levi’s eyes slide to my face. “All of the above.”

“Aren’t we all supposed to be against titans? How did these… factions even arise?”

“Its… Complicated,” Hange mutters.

“Then uncomplicate it.”

They look at each other, then Hange takes a deep breath. “So I’ll start with this : there are several humans who can turn into titans at will and keep in control. Five that we know of, all current or former Survey Corps members. Eren, who’s with us. A girl named Ymir. Annie Leonhart, she’s in custody, she is the so called Female Titan that cost us so many lives. Then we have Reiner Braun and Berthold Hoover.”

“Respectively,” Levi adds, “the Armored Titan and the Colossal Titan. They breached Wall Maria five years ago, infiltrated our troops, and attacked Trost very recently.”

 _What. The. Fuck._ “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Levi snaps.

I stare at him. No. No, he does _not_ look like he’s joking. “What do they want?”

Hange sighs. “We don’t know for sure. They’ve tried to kidnap Eren twice already, but their ultimate motive is unclear.”

“Does the royal government now about this?”

“The government has also tried to get their hands on Eren for their own goals.”

“Which are?”

“Again, unclear.”

I run a hand in my hair. “So we know that there’s a bunch of shit happening, but we don’t know who is responsible or why they’re acting that way.”

Levi gives a curt nod. “An accurate summary.”

Hange continues. “We also know that there are titans in the walls, and that the Cult of Walls is hiding information about Historia and her family. We also have reasons to think that that titans are… were… actually humans.”

It’s like the entire house has just fallen down on my head. I stagger, unable to remain on my feet. They must be making fun of me, trying the most outrageous lie to see how much I’ll believe. I take a few steps back and slump down on a battered bench. I feel the moss squish under my hands, and a cold dampness seep through the thin fabric of my dress and drawers.

“Hm,” Levi says, his voice barely audible. “That’s how I felt too.”

Hange frowns. “We absolutely need to find out what they’re hiding,” she says.

 _No shit._ “Wait, wait. Go back a little. The government is not saying anything about this?”

“Not a word.”

“But the people are bound to have noticed _something_!”

“They notice that they’re hungry, and what the press tells them,” Levi grumbles.

Hange nods her approval. “We think that’s why they’re trying to destroy us. We’re getting really close to uncovering all of their lies, even if we don’t have a clue what they are.”

“You’re openly trying to repair Wall Maria. Why would the government even object to that?”

“I think it’s been established now that they _don’t_ have the greater good of the people on their minds.”

“I just can’t believe it. I knew they were corrupt, but… how long have they been lying to everyone? Is there one thing we know about the world true, or is it all horseshit?”

Levi chuckles joylessly. “Good question.”

“There’s also this thing with Eren,” Hange continues. “His father left him a key, he said that in the basement of their house, he would find the secret of this world.”

I shake my head. “But why would this random citizen know such things?”

Levi casts a deadpan stare at me. “Random citizen with a kid that can turn into a titan?”

“Point taken.” Holy shit, that’s a lot to wrap one’s head around. What are they going to hit me with next? “And what has all of this got to do with Historia?”

“She’s of noble extraction, you’ve understood that.”

“Yeah, I know who the Reiss family is. Landowners, in the country, filthy rich. The father wouldn’t be the first one to have a child out of wedlock, why go to such lengths to hide her?”

“We have reason to believe that this family is a lot more than simple noble landowners.”

“Meaning?”

“Again, we’re not sure. But we intend to find out.”

I get up and pace the derelict garden. I’m grateful for the fact that Other V seems to be out cold, because she would have freaked out at all of this. I’m going to need time to process it fully. What a mess. It’s so absurd, I’m tempted to dismiss everything they’ve said as a very imaginative, but all in all impossible story. And yet… what I’ve seen from the world over the years leads me to believe every single word of their explanations. I walk to them.

“Okay. I’m going to believe you. What do you intend to do about it, and why are we here?”

Hange smiles at me. “If the walls are made of titans that managed to turn their skin into a rock-like material, if the Armored Titan can do it, we believe that Eren might be able to as well. It’s a matter of trying. If we succeed, we'll be able to repair the hole in Wall Maria, rid Shinganshina of the Titans, and get to that basement.”

I’m not entirely sure I follow what she means, but there’s no point in asking more questions now. “All right. I can get behind this. But I don’t really see where I fit in all of this. What could I possibly do for you that would be of use? I can’t really fight, I don’t know a lot about titans, and dancing won’t help.”

Levi clicks his tongue. “It’s us against the world, Victoria. Anyone on our side is an asset.”

To think that I’d live to see the day where I’d be considered an asset… “There’s only one thing that would make me change my mind. If it were my life only, I wouldn’t hesitate. But I have to make sure that my sister stays safe. I disappeared from the face of the world for her, I’m not about to ruin it for a cause, noble as it may be.”

Hange smiles. “We knew you’d say something like that. I sent Levi to find out where she was.”

The smile appearing on my lips is genuine, the most I’ve ever been in a while. “You have? Really? Thank you! Thank you so much!” I turn to the captain, who looks even more sour than at the beginning of our conversation. “What did you find? Has she moved? The Feuerbachs from Kassle, that’s where we lived; perhaps she changed her name, though, she was seeing this boy. I know I won’t be able to see her for a while, but just knowing that she’s happy –”

Levi interrupts me.

“She’s dead.”

My heart stops. Frozen in my throat, the words I was about to say leave my mouth in a garble of nonsense. I can’t feel anything but a sharp coldness seeping between every cell of my being.

“What the hell?” Hange interjects. “You can’t just say it to her like that!”

I look at her, not understanding her words.

“How else am I supposed to say it?”

I look at him. He’s wrong, that’s the only possibility. He misunderstood. I walk to him and stare into his eyes. “Are you sure? Are you absolutely, completely sure?”

“Yes.”

I scan every inch of his face, looking for the slightest hint of doubt. There isn’t any. I want to shake him, to make him change his answer. His features remain undisturbed as I grab him by the shoulders to make him look at me. I feel the fabric of his jacket bunch up under my clenched fists. “How?” I whisper, inches from his face.

He doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even lower his voice. He doesn't do anything to make me release him either. “She enrolled after the breaching of wall Maria, graduated with success, joined the Scouts. She was with us in Stohess when we captured the Female Titan and died there.”

“I knew it, you are wrong. She never would have joined the army. I made her swear not to join, I have her promise in writing. It’s another girl you’re talking about.” See, there was an explanation. It isn’t her.

He’s still not reacting to me crushing his shoulders. “Askal Feuerbach, from Kassle village, twenty one years old. There aren’t that many people with your family name.”

My legs decide to stop carrying my weight and I fall, letting go of my grip; a wounded animal sound escapes my throat. Levi tries to get me to stand up again, I push him away. The ground is the best place to be, now. Why stand? Why move anymore? Fingers scratching the dirt, I focus my gaze on a blade of grass. Ugly, half torn blade of green grass. How dare it be alive, when Askal is not? I wish I could scream, or cry, or hit something until time goes backwards. But tears don’t come, words don’t come, the urge to fight doesn’t come, there’s only this pressure in my lungs, this cold, this void digging into my guts. I can’t find the strength to get up from the ground. I don’t even _want_ to. My baby sister; my little one.

I can hear the other two talking to me, but how could they even imagine I’d care what they have to say? The only thing tethering me to this world is gone. Vanished. Crushed by this "female" titan, or buried under a building. Never to be seen, or heard, or loved again. There’s nothing left for me here, nothing, nobody.

Hange crouches next to me. “Victoria! Vic, talk to us. All of us have known loss. We all know what you feel.”

No, no, you don’t. You can’t. “She wasn’t supposed to die,” I say between clenched teeth. “She wasn’t supposed… to join.” With a trembling hand, I untie the little pouch at my neck and pull out the letter. Her last letter to me. “It’s written here. She promised. She had just met this boy… I was the one who went to sacrifice herself. She was going to have a life, a long, happy life, filled with joy and children, and love. I was meant to die for her to be happy.”

I hear Levi speaking from behind me. “Do you think she would have been happy in this world behind the walls, knowing that you were gone forever? What you’re feeling now is what she went through when you disappeared. She had to do something.”

_I did this so she would be safe._

“You’re not helping,” Hange angry whispers.

“No, no he’s right. He’s absolutely right. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t made everyone think I was dead, Askal would never have enrolled into the army. Never. I thought I was protecting her. I was wrong, oh hell was I wrong!” I punch the dirt. My hand hits a half buried stone; it stings. “I know her, I know what she felt, she believed she had to replace me. So she left her home. She left her future. She went up and died on a wall, alone, trying to be the hero I could not be. I might as well have killed her. I killed my sister, on top of all the other deaths I’m responsible for.”

“That is… not what I said,” I hear Levi reply. Hange shushes him.

I dig both fists in the ground and push to stand. I have dirt under my fingernails, my hand is bleeding, my dress is soiled. I shove my sister’s letter onto Hange’s chest. “Take it. I don’t deserve her last words. I don’t get to remember her happy. I don’t even know if she grew up to look like our mother. She was so young.” I jerk my heads backwards. “And you would have me on your side? Look at what I do to people when I try to protect them. An asset. Ha! What I great asset I make.” Neither of them reply; Hange is staring at me warily, and Levi is looking at a spot straight ahead of him, ignoring me. “What, out of comforting words? You’re afraid I’m going to lash out again and attack you? Want to tie me up and lock me inside a room while you decide if I deserve this clean slate, after all?” I don’t give them time to answer; I don’t need them to, I can see it on their faces, on Hange’s face anyway, that they don’t really trust me, and how could they? How can I blame them? “Don’t worry? I won’t bother you much longer. In fact, I’ll leave this instant.” I turn around and march towards the forest, anger and sorrow burning in my throat.

“Vic, wait!” Hange shouts.

“Leave her,” is the only thing I hear Levi says.

Yes, that’s right, leave me. Leave the wretch behind, it’s not like she’s needed anyway, is it. It’s not like anybody wants her. Perhaps I could be unleashed on some soldiers, if the situation calls for it. Just send Victoria, the devil inside her will find a way to destroy everything. But don’t come too near, no, she doesn’t know who’s on her side and who isn’t, she’s stupid, stupid Victoria, can’t even protect what’s dear to her heart. That’s why she hides, you know. That’ why she should be dead, but she survives, she clings to life, the stubborn weed, she won’t let go. Won’t let go. The devil won’t let her.

I will never come back. They don’t need me, and I don’t need them. I head out of the garden towards the forest. There must be a path that will lead me to a village, or a hamlet in the mountains. I can walk for days if necessary. I’ll start over, find a new name, fake amnesia. Goodbye for good, Victoria. You won’t be missed by anyone. Not anymore. I wish Other V would wake up, now, it’s lonely without her whispering into my ear. Why is she not coming back? Am I bound to be even more alone than when I was in the cave?

I dash ahead blindly between the trees, deep into the forest.

My sister is dead.

I am alone. Utterly, irremediably alone.

I freeze on the path. It’s getting dark and damp, but I don’t really care. She’s gone. Askal is gone. And she died thinking I had abandoned her.

I fall to my knees again, and punch the ground once, twice, and again, and again, my fists crushing leaves and bark and twigs, pieces of rock piercing my skin. I keep the blows coming, trying to beat reality, beat the world until neither it nor me can exist.

She died for nothing. She believed in the tales the will-o-wisp told, and she followed into my footsteps. And for what? We’ll never win this fight. All of them, they’ve died for nothing.

Hange, Sasha, the others… they will die. I’m sure of it, there’s no other way out for them. And I’ll die too. In vain. All of us will die, one by one, until there's nobody left to weep.

Titans. Humans. All the lies… Am I still alive, or is this world some sort of hell sinners are sent into to atone for the horror in their past lives?

The sun is setting, rays filtering between the trees. In this light, soft and pure, I understand. I see it, clear as day, sharp as the winter wind, I _feel_ the absurdity of the world, of our little lives. Small insects struggling to mean something, self important filth trying to rise above our fates.

I look at my bloody hands. None of it matters. My body is shaking with the realization. Inside me grows a tremendous urge to scream. I tilt my head back and –

I laugh. Profound, earth shattering bursts of laughter. I laugh so hard that I start crying. A wave of grief washes over me, bringing tears, at last, warm tears that run down my cheeks. I cry under the trees, as the sun sets onto the mountain. _I’m so sorry, Askal. Forgive me._ Forgive your sister, for she does not know what she should do.

When the tears finally dry up, it’s almost night. I shiver. Hoisting myself back up, I watch the moon rise above the forest, adorning the pine trees with veils of silvery fog.

Askal liked the moon more than the sun. She said it made the world softer. We were always creatures of the night, the two of us. Sisters of the darkness. I look at the silver circle in the sky, and smile. “What would you have me do now, little one? What should I do in this world, without you?”

I hear my sister’s laughter echo in the forest. _Fight back_ , she says.

_Be bold, be strong, be beautiful._

Her face appears before my eyes. Fair and happy. She’s smiling. Her features slowly morph; soon, she looks like Historia.

 _Fight back_.

I close my eyes. “All right, little one. I will. For you, I will.”

In silence, I walk back towards the house. I slip back inside, unnoticed. I pad into the dark kitchen, not taking the time to find a lamp, and wash the dirt, tears and blood caking my hands and face.

As I’m patting my hands dry, I hear the sound of something being put down on a table. I turn around and see a cup, being held by the rim by long fingers. My gaze follows up an arm, a slightly bent elbow, a shoulder; a pointed chin, thin lips, grey eyes piercing the shadows. “You’re back,” Levi states, his tone even.

“Yes.” I pull a chair and sit at the table. “I apologize for my behaviour, earlier.”

He lifts the cup, still not using the handle, and takes a sip. “You said you were going to leave.”

I give a slight smile, my eyes searching around the room for a second cup; I could do with a warm drink. “I can be overdramatic sometimes. You shouldn’t pay it any heed.”

“Did you phase out in the forest?”

My heart skips a beat. I lift my gaze to meet his. “No.” 

“Good,” he says, taking yet another sip. He looks away, towards the kitchen window. “At least this time, I didn’t have to tie you up so you wouldn’t punch me.” Is he… is he making a joke? It’s too dark to read his face, and I doubt I’d be able to tell anyway.

I take a deep breath and look at my damaged hands. “I have something to ask.”

Back down onto the table goes the cup. He releases it and leans closer, elbows on the table, fingers over his lips. “Go ahead.”

 _This is for you, little ones_. “Tell me, Captain. How can I be of use?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you so much for the kudos, I really appreciate it ^.^  
> I hope you still enjoy my little story!


	15. Falling Leaves

It’s been four days since I offered my help to the scouts , and for the moment it mainly translates to running errands and spending hours on a horse surveying the forest. That’s when I’m not standing on top of a creaky watch post all night long, peering into the distance to make sure nobody has found us.

The kids have accepted that I’m staying, and the other officers and squad members decided to stop questioning my presence when Levi announced it had been cleared with commander Smith. I keep to myself anyway: I can’t be expected to go from being alone with my worst half for five years to exchanging pleasantries over boiled potatoes every night, particularly when I myself feel that my place here hasn’t exactly been earned. I’ve tried to talk to Historia again, but I’ve been kept quite busy with the duties assigned to me. The little free time I have, I spend it training, rebuilding my strength, as much as my shoulder allows me to.

Flinging a cape onto my shoulders, I jump onto a horse and trot towards the forest. The cold air of the mountain hurts my face. It’s always more or less windy here, and I can’t say I like it. Hange has decided to start her experiments today. They’ve been at it for three hours now, and I figured they’d be glad if _someone_ brought them lunch. Which will also allow me to see things first hand, and not rely on someone else’s account of what happens.

I run into Connie and Sasha, who thank me profusely for the food and point in the direction of a clearing deeper in the forest. Trying to figure out if the world can be saved or not from a remote corner of the woods… What a flimsy plan. And it doesn’t matter how deep they go, the people who are after them have probably already noticed what’s happening and are making plans to catch them. Us, Victoria. To catch _us_.

I reach the clearing, and hand over tightly wrapped cheese to Jean, who smiles gratefully. He doesn’t need to tell me where I’m supposed to go next; I can find it by listening. Back into the forest I go, following the shouts and roars. Soon, I reach what must have been the bed of a river, millenaries ago. I get down from the horse and tie it to a tree without anyone noticing me. Mikasa, Armin, the one called Moblit and Levi all have their backs to the forest and are staring at whatever is happening down there. I carry the basket loaded with food and drink towards them, trying to not make too much noise. With the roars coming from what I assume is Eren’s titan form, I won’t be heard anyway.

Well, Mikasa _does_ hear me, looks over her shoulder, then goes back to watching the scene below. Armin imitates her, and comes to take the basket from my hands. Levi turns around too.

“What are you doing here, arsonist?” he asks. “You’re off duty for the day.”

“Figured you would want something to eat. You’re _welcome_.” He does the Levi equivalent of an eyeroll, which is an almost imperceptible movement of his eyelids. “And I was curious. All of you have seen the transformation. I want to know what it’s like.”

Armin makes a face. “For the moment, it’s lots of roaring and destroying stuff.” He looks into the basket an selects an apple.

“He’s tired,” I hear Mikasa say from where she’s standing. “We’ll have to stop soon.”

“Where’s Hange?” I ask.

Levi jerks his chin towards the noise. I walk closer and cast a glance down, to see Hange jumping around in front of… a titan. But it doesn’t look quite like the others I’ve seen before, the ones that attacked the village sometimes. “So… this is Eren?”

“It is,” Levi answers.

I draw even closer to the edge of the small cliff to have a better look. Yeah, if I really look for it there is something of a resemblance… the eyes, perhaps. “This is so fucking _weird_ ,” I whisper. I watch titan-Eren flail his arms, roaring. Hange is yelling at him, words that I don’t understand. On my left, Moblit, working as Hange’s assistant, is trying to write down his observations. Eren then proceeds to thrash around, destroying a shed. “What’s happening?” I ask.

Armin is the only one polite enough to answer me, once he’s finished chewing his apple. “This is his second transformation today. First time around he managed to follow instructions, build this shed thing, and even write on the ground! Then he lost control, transformed back. He wanted to try again, and here we are. This time, there’s no getting through to him.”

“The other ones who can shift, you said they managed to keep in control all the time, right?”

“Hey,” Levi says, “stand back, you’re not wearing gear and I’m not jumping down to get you if you fall.”

I look over my shoulder, frowning. “I’m not an idiot.” Still, I take a few steps back.

“I should stop this,” Mikasa mutters.

“We have to keep at it at least a little longer,” Armin replies, throwing the apple core behind him. “Or we won’t learn anything useful.”

I look around and select a nice rock to sit on, from which I can have a decent view of what’s happening. I’ve barely settled myself that after a couple roars, titan Eren falls. Mikasa tenses up, all her attention focused on her friend. I watch her face closely, trying to determine what’s happening inside that girl’s head. When Hange lands among us, holding an unconscious Eren, Mikasa rushes to them, almost shoving the squad leader out of her way.

“Armin,” I call out, “feed him!”

Hange turns around and waves. “Oh, hi, Victoria!” I wave back, but she’s already going through the notes Moblit took, telling him that he needs to _draw_ what is happening too, not just _write_ , it’s very important. The poor man stares at her, holding his wrist.

I slide down from the rock to stretch my legs in the grass and watch the leaves, orange, yellow, brown, falling gracefully from the treetops. I lay my head back on the stone and close my eyes, probing inside my mind. Other V hasn’t even reacted to seeing the titan. Perhaps she knows it’s Eren, she knows I was perfectly safe, surrounded by so many soldiers who know what to do? I’d like to think that she’s capable of _learning_ what’s a threat and what isn’t. But I’m not convinced; I can already feel the constant dread coming back, the sensation of imminent danger. She’s not fully awake yet, but will be soon. 

“D’you come all the way here to take a nap?”

I open an eyelid and see Levi towering over me, arms crossed, back straight, eyes hooded into a judgmental stare.

“You said it yourself, I’m off duty. And if you want me awake tonight while on watch, you’ll let me sleep a bit here and now.”

“You could sleep at the house.”

“It’s nice here. I like it, and I’ll be around for when things become interesting again. Anyway, what do you care where I take naps?”

“You’re going to get dirt on your clothes.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “I’ll wash them. And next time I want to sit in the grass I’ll wear what’s left of my dress so I don’t damage Survey Corps property. Promise.”

He frowns. “There’s… Your dress was mostly burnt away.”

“My point exactly. It’s _mine_ and there’s not much left to stain, so perhaps you’ll get off my back.” He grunts but doesn’t answer, and I close my eyes again. I don’t hear him walk away. I peek and… yeah he’s still here. “You try sitting on the forest ground. It’s a nice sensation. Being close to nature and shit.”

“No, thank you,” he says, his mouth curling up in disgust.

“On the rock, then. It almost looks like a seat and it’s clean-ish.” He doesn’t move. “Listen, unless you’re going to get me a glass of something from the basket, sit down. I’m exhausted just looking at you, standing all stiff and grumpy.” Hell, I even thought of bringing food with me, to be nice, and he’s focusing on a little dirt on those old trousers they lent me. This man needs a life. I’m not one of his subordinates, I don’t have to follow orders or let myself be bossed around by anyone. So he can take his advice and shove it somewhere.

To my surprise, he _does_ sit on the rock, a little to my left. He’s _barely_ touching the stone, though. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands knitted together, he’s staring at a leaf; or a worm; or something that’s on the ground and is likely fascinating.

“Holy Sina,” I whisper, “how any more tense can you get?”

“It’s not safe here. There’s people after us, and they might swoop in at any moment.”

I snort. “They’re still figuring out what we’re doing. They’re waiting for orders, or they would have attacked already.”

“You believe they’ve found us?”

I turn my head to the left, and up, to look at him, lifting an eyebrow. “I’d be _very_ surprised if they hadn’t.”

“Mh. You’re probably right.”

“But hey,” I say, giving an exaggerated shrug, “they don’t stand a chance. We have a titan on our side. And worse. We have you.”

“I’m not worried. I’ll send you to the front line with a kitchen knife and a box o’ matches. No survivors.”

I fold my legs under me and lower my head. Screw him. “Don’t make fun of me,” I mutter. Further away, Eren is regaining consciousness, the others crowded around him.

“I wasn’t,” Levi says. I look up again, scanning his face. Right. Perhaps he’s telling the truth.

“Two people who can turn into mindless murderers. Interesting strategy.”

“You’re not stupid enough to compare yourself to Eren, are you?”

I laugh. “How little you think of me! I know very well that at least, he can _decide_ when to shift. I don’t roar, either, do I?”

“No. And I don’t think you’d be able to follow instructions when you’re phased out, let alone build a shed or write.”

I whip my head around again. This time, there’s a hint of a shadow around his mouth, that could indicate the intention of a smile. “You lack practice when it comes to humour, and it shows,” I reply, my voice cold as ice. The shadow disappears, and I instantly regret my words. Why? He deserved my answer. But he isn’t entirely wrong either… “At least, you don’t need to whack me with a sword on the back of the neck to get me back to normal.” He doesn’t answer. “And who needs sheds anyway? Carpenters would be out of jobs if we all started using titans to build cities.” Still nothing, so we sit there in awkward silence for a bit. Well, awkward for me, because Levi doesn’t seem to even notice I’m still there. I start playing with a dead leaf, tearing it into little pieces.

Suddenly, he straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, cracks his neck. “Did you bring tea, in that basket?”

“I did. Not sure if it’s still warm, however.”

“It will do.”

He gets up, brushes imaginary dust from his clothes, straightens his straps, adjusts his hood, checks his fingernails for dirt. His face doesn’t display any clue towards what he’s thinking, his eyes focussed on the task at hand : methodically making sure that not an inch of his body has been stained by sitting on a rock.

I realize that I’m staring, my gaze following the precise agitation of his hands. And it’s rude, to stare. I lower my eyes and concentrate on the leaf in my hands. My own nails are black with grime, and I make a fist to hide them, aware of a vague feeling of shame.

“We need to understand what’s going on with your shoulder and your… abilities,” Levi says, eventually.

I tense up and keep my eyes trained on the ground. “It’s not that interesting. I know nothing about it myself. As for my shoulder… I saw the best physicians, when I worked for the government. They all agreed that there was nothing to be done.”

“Stop making excuses,” he says, his tone sharper than I’ve ever heard. “You asked how you could be of use. I’m telling you : you have to be able to fight again. Damaged shoulder…” he huffs. “I saved your skin with a broken ankle, it wasn’t so you could fetch tea and take naps in the forest. Figure it out.” He turns around and walks away without another word.

I stay in the leaves, stunned. _Very well_. I’ll stop bringing tea, then.

I get up, march to the horse, furious at him, at my stupid fears, at this injury; at myself. I swear at the horse, spurring him harder than necessary so I can get away from this place as fast as possible.

Oh, I’ll ‘ _figure out’_ what’s wrong with me. I’ll bring Other V out, I’ll force myself to use gear again. We’ll see how that leads us.

Deep inside me, a little voice whispers.

 _Danger_.

\---

Levi turned around when he heard the horse whinnying. Victoria was leaving? She needed to get over herself if that’s all it took to vex her. He watched her ride away fast, leaning on the horse. She _had_ gotten dirt onto her clothes, sitting on the forest ground. And yet, he found himself wondering how else the conversation could have gone.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he heard Hange ask in a singsong voice. She had materialized next to him and was looking at him, close enough to count the hairs in his eyebrows.

“Keep your money,” he replied. "I was thinking about Victoria's injury."

Hange snickered. “By staring at her buttocks?”

He huffed. “I was not –“

She waved his protestations away. “Yeah, yeah, I know, you don’t have time for this, you told me last time I caught you _looking_. I was just teasing.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Eren’s ready for a third try.”

He nodded and joined the rest of the group on the edge of the cliff.

\---

Levi was walking back towards the trees after getting Eren to safety. It had all been useless. Three transformations, each of them advertising their position to the world, and no fucking result in sight. No hardening, and now the brat was unconscious, Hange was spiralling, the girl Mikasa ready to bite off the head of anyone getting near her dear Eren, and everyone else was scared and disappointed.

To top it all off, Victoria was nowhere to be found. Was it her being “dramatic” again? Had she managed to injure herself on the way back, phased out and fell somewhere? No fucking clue. So now he had to go into the forest again and try to find her. She’d better have a good excuse for disappearing, or he would give her an earful. She couldn’t make him waste his time, the situation was too precarious to factor in any other element of surprise.

He heard a loud thump, and some choice swearing. He located where the voice came from, he was almost sure it was Victoria’s, but just in case, he shouldered his rifle and checked the presence of his switchblade. He saw the ferns move, drew nearer, and found Victoria on her back, a deep frown on her face. She looked furious and… sad.

“Oh great, you saw me,” she said.

He swung his rifle behind his back. “Don’t just vanish like that.”

She looked at him. “You were worried about me?”

“Worried? Do you think I have the time to worry about you with everything going to shit around us?” She tilted her head to the side but didn’t answer. “What are you even doing here?”

“What you asked, sir,” she replied, her tone a mockery of obedience. “I’m figuring out what is wrong with me.” Was she trying to provoke his temper? He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of reacting to her jabs. He had found her, incident over, he could go back and mull over the failure the day had been in the privacy of his room. He had started to turn around when she spoke again. “I’m testing my limits with gear, trying to see if I really risk turning every time I wear it.”

He had to admit, she didn’t waste time. “Hence doing it in the forest.”

“Hence the forest, yeah. Also, tall trees,” she added, pointing at an enormous oak.

He lifted his eyes to look at said tree. Then looked back down at Victoria. She still hadn’t moved from the ground. Was she injured? “When I said figure it out, I meant talk to Hange. Not launch yourself from the highest tree you could find. Where did you get the gear?”

“Borrowed it from Historia. Everyone else’s would be too big, I’d mess up their adjustments too much to make it fit me.”

At least she was considerate. She was indeed on the small side, barely had a couple of inches on him, and from afar, under her cape and clad in those wide clothes, she could pass for a girl and not a grown woman. He decided to satisfy his curiosity; perhaps she had been mildly successful. Perhaps something good could come out of this day. “What were the… results?”

“I can’t keep my balance long enough.” Well, he couldn’t really say he was surprised. “It proved my point, though.”

What was she talking about now… “Your point being?”

“That whatever it is that’s wrong with me prevents me from using 3DMG properly.”

He couldn’t help the frown coming to his face. “Are you trying to prove that you’re useless?”

She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again. He should have been angered by her attitude, but the sheer nonsense of her thought process, it… it _amused_ him. She raised herself up on an elbow, pouting. "It does sound stupid when you put it like that. But," she continued, a slight smile dancing on her lips, "the truth is, I don't even know what I'd like to happen. I wear gear, the ‘other me’ wakes up and sends this fear that I can’t reason with. If I push through, I turn, and lose control. If I don’t, I fall. I wish I could just…” her voice trailed off and she looked towards the sky. "I'll try my way one last time, then I swear I'll go with your advice. Deal?" She didn't wait for his answer and got up.

As she rose from the ground, she kept her eyes locked on the top of the trees. She took a few steps, her head high, her mouth set, chin jutted up and back straight. She let the hooded cape slide off her shoulders in one careless move; she had tied the loose front tails of her oversized shirt into a knot at her waist, and found a piece of string to serve as belt. Her sleeves were rolled up halfway up her forearms, and the leather straps hugged her body tight. Levi’s eyes swept over her slender figure, slowed down at the curve of her chest, rested on the small strip of skin that showed under the shirt, flickered to the nape of her neck. His throat went dry.

 _Enough_ , he told himself. Yes, he found her attractive, Hange _did_ have a point; but he couldn’t indulge. Not here, not now. Not with her.

“Watch this,” she told him, and the next minute, she was up in the trees, high above the ground. She yelled something that he didn’t understand. His eyes followed her hopping from branch to branch, even trying some figures. Her technique was clearly hesitant, but not like that of a rookie. It was as if her body knew very well how to operate in the air, but her mind kept interfering. It also seemed she was letting herself be carried by the impulses of the blasts of fuel, instead of giving direction to her movements herself.

“Oi, get down,” he hollered towards the trees.

She obeyed. “What?”

“You need to put more intention in what you’re doing. And more… strength. You’ll never kill a Titan with those moves, you look like a fucking ballerina.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Perhaps because I _am_ a fucking ballerina, Levi!”

She was gone again before she could notice his stunned face. Then he heard another swearword, a thump, and a long shout. He readied himself, eyes actively searching the thick foliage to locate her.

Something flashed white in the oak tree where she had started; she was falling, fast, and had probably been knocked out because she wasn’t even trying to rectify her position. In the millisecond it took him to decide where to send his grapple, however, he saw her twist. With the tip of her foot, she pushed herself away from the branch she had been on a collision course with, then landed on the ground, almost perfectly. He ran to her; she lifted her head. In her eyes shone the same demented light he had already witnessed in her village, after the Titan attack. _Fuck_. He froze and whipped his knife out. Her lips curled up in a feral smile. He wasn’t afraid of her, far from it, but he definitely preferred not having to beat her unconscious right after she’d recovered.

She exhaled slowly, her eyes darting from the knife to his face to his other hand. He tried telling her to calm down, but it didn’t work any more than when they’d tried this outside Chlorba. She dug her heels in the ground and launched herself at him with a blood curling growl.

He dodged her fists three, four times. If previous experience were to serve, she wouldn’t tire out soon, he had to stop her one way or another. He tried landing a small blow on her temple. _Tried_.

She was fast, faster than when she danced, almost as fast as he was. She was breathing heavily, and took a few steps back as he ran to her. She ducked again and snarled. An animal; she had turned into an animal. Whatever human part left in her wasn’t in control anymore, she had become a creature of pure instinct, instinct that was concentrated on one thing : eliminate the enemy in front of her. In other words, him.

He pushed away his reluctance to hurt her, and shot a hook into a tree to swoop on her from above and land behind her before she even realized where he had gone. He caught her arms, locking them in her back. She screamed and squirmed, but couldn’t free herself.

“Victoria, that’s enough,” he said. Might as well try one last time before actually hitting her. “It’s me, it’s Levi.” Her entire body tensed up and her breathing became erratic; she stopped writhing and collapsed, suddenly lifeless.

_What the hell?_

He couldn’t have caused enough pain for her to pass out, it was impossible. Shifting her weight in his arms, he lowered her onto the forest ground. Her head lolled to the side. He put his knife away and knelt next to her; she didn’t look like she was breathing at all. He checked her pulse at her wrist – nothing.

Shit.

He told himself that he couldn’t have killed her, it was absurd, and yet, the day had been so shitty that he wouldn’t even be surprised if it ended like this. He tried her neck, fingers digging deep into the soft folds under her jaw. He almost sighed in relief: faint, slow, barely perceptible, he _did_ feel a pulse. They’d had a similar scare when they’d arrived at the house, last time she had turned, he remembered.

He scanned her body, trying to pay more attention; she was breathing, but such shallow intakes that anyone giving a cursory glance at her would think that this particular threat had been removed, and she’d be left for dead. Stellar survival reflex.

She seemed so weak, so vulnerable, the polar opposite of the crazed brute he had faced not a minute earlier. The little colour her training and the fight had brought to her cheeks was gone, and her pink mouth made a stark contrast with the pallor of her face. His eyes travelled over her body. Her arms and chest were covered in various scars, some recent, like the burns on her arms, and some marks of older, numerous injuries big and small. She had been nicked by blades, grazed by bullets, pinched by he knew not what. 

“What the hell happened to you, Victoria?” he whispered.

A shiver ran through her body.

He lifted his hands off her. _What am I doing?_

He got back to his feet at once. He couldn’t afford to take this too far.

She shivered again, blinked, and looked at him. He felt immense relief noting that the wild light in her eyes was gone. She sat up, her hand to her head. Her eyes flew to the sky, the tree from which she had fallen, and back to him. “Did I…” she started

“Yes,” he said, forcing himself to remain cold.

She let out a frustrated groan. “I was falling, and…”

“It was a nasty fall. If you hadn’t turned, you’d be dead by now.” She started shaking. He picked up her cape and walked to her. “Put this on.” She buried herself inside the cape, looking more like a girl than ever, and got to her feet.

“How did you stop me?”

He hesitated. _Don’t be an idiot. It wasn’t after hearing my name. She was stuck and her instinct decided that playing dead was the only way out_. “Not sure. You passed out for about five minutes, then came back.”

She gave a slight smile, and he almost smiled back. What the hell? He looked away. “Don’t think this will get you out of watch duty,” he said, making his voice even drier than usual. “And tomorrow, you’re talking to Hange. This is not a suggestion.”

She nodded, and placed her hand on his forearm, giving it a light squeeze. “Thank you. Again.” Warmth radiated from her skin into his, sending electricity down his spine.

He pulled his arm away started walking briskly towards the house. He couldn’t wait for this shitshow of a day to end.


	16. The Price of Resilience

As I am standing right outside the room Hange has deemed her “office”, I find myself still deliberating whether talking to her is really what I want or not. It was very comfortable, ignoring Other V and her murderous tendencies, and I wish I could keep finding alternate ways to cope with the problem – not interacting with people, for example. But I promised myself, in Askal's name, that I was done with hiding, and I can't go around attacking people. The memory of Levi’s hard face after yesterday’s fiasco, when I finally came back to my senses, is the final straw that makes me knock on the door. He was furious at me, I could tell he was, and rightly so. I refuse to be a liability, and I can't forget I owe him my life.

“Door’s not locked,” I hear. Once I’m inside, Hange gestures me to sit on a rickety wicker chair while she starts moving books and pieces of parchment from a bench so she can have a seat too.

Apart from the fact that it’s considerably messier than the rest of the house, the room is just as bleak and underfurnished as the other bedrooms in this sorry place. Hange asks me how I'm feeling, and I have to reply that I'm fine - I’ve had no dizziness, no nausea, was able to stay awake for my watch; like nothing ever happened. If Levi is to be believed the fall could have killed me and I only survived thanks to Other V. At least there is one positive use of this.

She finally gives up on making a neat pile with her documents and sits on the bench opposite me, looking far too excited about all of this.

“Are you sure I’m not bothering you?” I ask her. “You have better things to do with your time. Like working with Eren.”

“He’s sleeping and Mikasa won’t let anyone near him, not after how yesterday ended. He lost consciousness after the third transformation, which was botched, and I've already spent the whole night going through our notes. Without making one inch of progress," she adds, her face grave. "So no, I don’t have anything “better” to do. Levi told me you fell from a tree?”

“Yes, but that’s not why I’m here. Is that all he told you?”

“No. He said he had to fight you.”

My eyes drop to the floor. “Did I hurt him? He wouldn’t answer when I asked.” He’s been avoiding me altogether since we got back to the house. Not that I blame him.

“He didn’t mention it, means if you did, it doesn’t matter. So,” she adds, her eyes wide and a large smile plastered on her face, “tell me _everything_.” I feel my skin prickle under her gaze and I can’t help a slight flinch. “Don’t let my lack of manners scare you!” She adds, waving a hand. “I just get very curious about… things.”

“But you’re a titan specialist. There’s no reason you should be interested in my condition.”

She smiles even more. “It’s _unusual_. Anything that’s out of the ordinary can teach us a bit more about the world we live in, and that's always a win in my book. I’d have examined Mikasa to find out more about her strength if she let me.”

Her eyes are shining behind her glasses. I’m starting to question whether this was a good idea, after all, but I still answer her many questions about my age, height, weight, as she writes everything down on yet another notebook. Yes, I had one sister. No, no other living relative that I know of. My mother died in childbirth; yes, we lost the baby too. I was eight years old. My father died of the fever when I was in the training corps. Yes, my sister had it too. No, she wasn’t a sickly child, as far as I remember. Neither was I. Yes, the burns on my arm have gotten better quickly. I heal fast, always have.

“Do you know if your father was ill for a long time, before passing?”

“I wasn’t there, but I don’t think so. I got a letter telling me that the disease had reached the village, that both him and Askal were sick, but nothing alarming. Next thing I know, I get another letter informing me that he didn’t survive.”

“And how was your father, before that?”

I shrug. “He was very quiet. It got even worse after our mother died. He would work all day, eat with us at night, then work on his other projects, alone. I never really knew how he felt, what he thought. He tried his best to put food on the table and taught me a few useful things. He made little wooden figurines for us but forgot our birthdays. That’s the kind of man he was. He very well could have been sick every month, we wouldn’t have known.”

“I see… No mental deterioration, no violence?”

“Are you trying to determine whether what I experience is hereditary?” She grunts, flipping a page over. “No, he was not violent. I don’t think I ever heard him raise his voice. And neither was my mother, for what I remember.”

“Then I don’t think that’s where we’ll find the explanation.” She remains silent for a moment, reading through her notes.

“So,” I venture, “would you like to have a look at my scars first?”

She looks up and plants her eyes into mine. “You said once that you had a devil inside you.”

I let out a loud sigh. “Yes. I have a tendency to exaggerate things, but that’s truly what it feels like when it goes out of control. I’ve named it. I call it ‘Other Victoria’, it’s like there’s something, someone in my head, telling me about the threats around me, all of them, big and small; she orders me to run away or to fight back, she helps me decide who I can trust or not. She never shuts up, and she doesn't like it when I ignore her for too long.”

“Do you listen?”

“Most of the time I don’t. I’ve learnt to tune her out. But when the situation gets really dangerous, it becomes harder to resist, until I lose control. I’ve never spoken to anyone about this, I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t remember anything of what happens when _she_ takes over.” I knit my hands together to hide the slight tremor suddenly agitating them. “Have you ever seen anything similar before?”

She shakes her head. “Have ou always felt like this?”

“Oh, no. It started after that night in the cave. The one Levi probably told you about.” She nods. “That’s when I first experienced it. Killed all those people, woke up, She was in there,” I conclude, tapping a finger on my forehead.

“And it had never happened before?”

“No. Well… not that I know of. I’d never regained consciousness on a pile of dead bodies before, that’s for sure.”

She breaks the tip of her pencil and swears. Getting up to rummage in a drawer, she keeps shooting questions at me. “And it’s what you experienced when we were escaping, right?”

“Yes. Of course the situation was dangerous, I expected to have to manage it. But when I found myself surrounded, it had already escalated beyond what I could control. It’s usually a constant sense of impending doom, of never being able to completely relax my attention, but in cases like this it grows like sirens screeching in my ears. I had no way out of there and _she_ knew it.”

“How many times have you been close to snapping between the cave and Chlorba? Ha! Finally,” she says, holding out the stub of a pencil. She walks back to her seat and resumes her scribbling.

“I’m not sure. Really close? Four or five times. I was either incapacitated by pain, or stuck, or unarmed.”

“Inebriated, perhaps? Inordinately angry?”

“Ha, no! Quite the contrary. Alcohol and emotions running stronger than my fear actually keep _her_ in check. Why do you think I drink so much?” I add with a smile. She doesn’t seem to find this funny. “And of course, when I use 3DMG.”

“Every time?”

“Every time. I just have to fasten the harness on, and she wakes up. Let alone actually use it to, you know, move in the air.” She’s frowning. “If I try that, I get dizzy, my sight blurs, and I feel hands trying to grab my feet.”

“Hands?”

“Yeah, like what happened in the cave. It all comes back to me whenever I hoist myself up ”

She puts her pen and notebook down on the floor and leans in. “Can you feel it now? The… Other Victoria?” I nod. “I’m going to ask you to do something for me. You’re going to remember one time where you snapped, or got close to. You don’t have to tell me, but I do need you to describe what you’re feeling, physical or not.”

I recoil at the thought. “Are you sure? What if I lose control?”

“I’ll be here.” I make a face. “You’ve told me everything. I’m sure you can trust me a little bit longer.”

She’s not wrong, and she’s perfectly capable of stopping me if this goes south. Worst case scenario she locks me inside the room until I pass out, and the most damage I can do is break some furniture. There’s no lit lamp or candle here, can’t set fire to the house. “All right.”

I rest back in the chair and put both palms down on my thighs. I proceed to recall the night in the cave, once again. The fear, the disgust. “I can hear something ringing in my ears.” The faces of all those people, screaming murder. Running up the stairs. “It’s getting louder. I’m afraid.” Sending the hook into the stone, flying away. “She’s started to scream. My head hurts, I can’t see properly anymore.” The stairs creaking, collapsing. I fly down. “I… I feel the hands around my ankles, they’re pulling, they’re…” I dig my fingernails in the chair, trying to stop myself from running away. “I… no…” The world goes dark.

“Victoria!”

_You have to run._

“Victoria, you are safe. I’m here. It’s me, you know me, I’m not going to hurt you!”

I force my eyes open and focus on the first things I can sense.

I see Hange’s hair, I smell leather, I taste blood in my mouth, I hear the rain outside, I feel the fabric of my shirt. Breathe. 

“My shoulder’s hurting,” I whisper.

“You’re back?” I nod. Perhaps I should have picked something a little less intense. Hange gets up, pours a glass of water and hands it to me. I try my best but it's absolutely vile. “Yeah, water’s gross here. What do you do to come back, usually?”

“List stuff around me, stuff I know is here, that’s not in my head.”

“That's clever.”

“It's experience.” I put the glass down. _Breathe_. “I don’t know why my shoulder started hurting. It’s fine now.”

“And where is Other Victoria?”

I probe gently. “Quiet.”

“Can I have a look at your shoulder?”

I slip the shirt off my back; of course she can have a look, every doctor and their mother has seen it and they all said the same goddamn thing : nothing to be done.

She pulls at my arm, lifts it, twists it. Every time, I answer no when she asks if it hurts. The pain is _gone_. It always hurt when I got it examined before. What the hell is going on here?

Hange gestures me to sit back down. “The accident,” she mutters. “When you fell from the roof. How well do you remember it?”

“I remember falling,” I say, trying to calm my breathing. If only the water was a little more palatable, I could do with another glass right now. “I was parrying the girl’s hits, walking backwards. She was fast. It’s… it’s confused, I fell, I was in pain, and I woke up in the infirmary where they told me what happened.”

She looks me over, a kind smile on her lips. “They told you, eh?”

My heart skips a beat. I was, indeed, _told_ what had happened. Shit. “You think they lied?”

“The scarring. It shows that whatever went through your body came from the front.”

“No, I fell on my back onto the stake. That’s what they… said…” My voice trails off. In the deafening silence, the wind howls, sending rain crashing onto the windowpanes. The room has gotten far too dark for the time of the day. “What happened to me, Hange?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. But not what they said happened.” I shiver. Hange cracks a match and lights a candle, but it’s not enough to make the room brighter. “I think… I can’t be sure, though… that the pain is not in your shoulder.”

My eyes shoot up at her. She’s looking at her feet now. “Where else would pain be? I feel it. I’m not making it up!”

“I never said you were. I think it’s like the sensation of hands on your feet. You know they’re not there, but you feel them. You just never noticed, because how can you make the difference with pain?” I don’t answer her. Rubbing my palm over the scar, I try to see how I could be sure. If I stub my toe on the tea table, how is this different than what’s in my shoulder right now? “I believe that both the hands grabbing you and the pain are signals that what you call “other Victoria” are sending you to make you stop whatever it is you’re doing that is dangerous. Straining your body, using 3DMG… There’s this part of you trying to protect you, and using whatever means possible.”

I dig my fingernails deep into the palms of my hands, lower my eyes and stare at the floorboards. “But why do I react that way?”

“I don’t know. For me, it’s a strong defence mechanism that you don’t really control. It’s just telling you to get out of harm’s way.”

“I can’t always get out of harm’s way! Not in this world!”

“That’s when it takes over and you… phase out. If you can't run from the threat, you obliterate it.”

“But it has no rhyme or reason sometimes! I can't live the rest of my life wondering if I'm going to assault someone who touched my hair unexpectedly!”

I can tell that she doesn't even know what to answer to my anger. “We all have gut feelings. Yours are… excessive.”

Thunder cracks loudly over the forest.

“I wasn’t always like this. I’m sure I wasn’t.” Lightning strikes next, illuminating Hange’s face for a split second, underlining the circles under her eyes. “Something happened. I need to know what. Do you have an idea? A clue?”

“I can’t be sure, but I’ve heard of extreme conditioning that was tried out during training, some time ago.”

My entire body is shaking now. I don’t even know what to think, if I should believe her. I have been lied to by so many people for such a long time that a glaring truth would seem suspicious to me. “Extreme how?”

“That’s all I know, the rest is above my paygrade. There’s been so many trials, inventions, weapons testing, that has been kept hidden from everyone but the highest of officers. Perhaps they were trying to make super soldiers.”

“And ended up with me…” My teeth are chattering loudly. “Who would know?” I need to find out if any of this is true.

“When we can get back to the capital safely, we will go to the Military’s Archives together. Erwin will sign a safe-conduct if I ask him to.”

I feel that this sort of records won’t be in the archives, protected or not. “So, my accident is fake? Was I even on this roof?” I can’t stifle the insane laughter rising up in my chest.

“Perhaps you had an episode and they had to get you down from the roof somehow. Perhaps the entire story is fabricated.”

Okay. Breathe. There has to be a way to fix this. Understanding the problem makes it possible to solve, right? “If I manage to find out what happened exactly, can I go back to normal?”

Again, Hange starts looking at her feet. “I can’t promise anything. This is uncharted territory.”

“I see.” Of course; unfixable. I swear under my breath. Lightning strikes again, closely followed by thunder. The storm is closing in on us. “Well, there goes being useful.”

“What?”

“Something Levi said yesterday. About me having to be able to fight so I can be useful. I guess we could always see how _She_ fares when facing a titan. Worth a shot. It’s what they were trying to make, right? Some sort of human weapon.”

Hange winces at my tone. “Let’s not jump to conclusions or make decisions. I could be entirely wrong; you did say that you were able to control it somehow, most of the time. Look at what happened today : you almost lost control, but manages to come back by focussing on me.”

“Yeah. I appreciate your effort in giving me hope, but I’m afraid those will be the only occurrences.”

“Who knows? We can try again, in a safe environment.” I don’t answer her.

There’s a short knock on the door, then it opens.

“Oi,” Levi says, walking inside the room, “Eren’s finally awake, and –“ He stops dead in his tracks when he notices me sitting in the chair. I see his eyes travel all over me. I must be a sight… Dishevelled, cheeks still pink from anger, slightly shaking. Then he averts his gaze. Oh yeah. I’m also half undressed. Well, he should have waited for an answer after knocking. Unhurriedly, I get up to retrieve my shirt and button it back on.

“We’re not quite finished here,” Hange says, her tone soft.

“We are,” I tell them. “There’s nothing else you can do anyway. Not until I manage to find answers. Eren’s much more important. I’m not being bitter or sarcastic. He _is_.”

Levi turns his head slightly to stare at me, but doesn’t say a word. Hange gets up. “Will you be all right?”

I let out a short laugh. “Yeah. Go save the world. I’ll save myself.”

She smiles back. “Blow the candle out when you leave, please.”

They walk away. I draw closer to the window to watch the storm. It’s still day, but I can barely see the front gate of the house. Powerful gusts of wind are wreaking havoc in the old fruit trees, sending branches flying all over the orchard. Watch will be particularly awful, tonight, if this doesn’t calm down. Lighting strikes, and I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the windowpane. Pale, face drawn, hair half down. I have no idea who this sorry little person is, but it’s not me. Slowly, I put my hair up into a bun again. I need a fucking drink.

\--

“What’s wrong with her?” Levi asked, as he walked with Hange towards the bedroom where Eren rested.

“Do you remember when they experimented on trainees with extreme exposure to… everything?”

“Not really.”

“Pain and Fear Conditioning, they called it.”

The name vaguely reminded him of something that had made him angry. Then he remembered and swore. “Wasn’t that something they had to shut down ‘cause it killed even _more_ trainees than the normal thing?”

“Precisely. It was a waste of money and human lives.”

He let out a short grunt. Assholes thought they could just play around with trainees. “What about this training?”

“I think she survived it. It messed her up, but she came through.”

There was a short silence. It could explain the scars and her survival skills. “Interesting,” Levi said, eventually. “Why her?”

“No other living relative other than a small sister, at the time. Nobody would have batted an eye if she’d died.”

He almost winced. “I mean why did she survive?”

“How can I know? I always assumed nobody had made it out; perhaps she’s just more resilient than most, or she got lucky. Well, if you call the condition she’s in ‘getting lucky’, I guess. I don’t know if I can help her control it, she already does a good job at that despite what she thinks. I’ll need to find more information and consult with other physicians.”

He let out an imperceptible sigh. It wasn’t really good news, but it was something. “She survived,” he said. _And she keeps on surviving. I can work with that_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is shorter, I had a lot of work to do this week! Next chapter will be the usual length.


	17. He Who Plays With Fire

I don’t know how long I sit at the kitchen table, hunched over an empty cup, a hand around a bottle of pear liquor, the other scratching at the wood. At some point, I try to talk to Other V. I tell her to leave me alone, that she’s not needed, I can take care of myself.

It does absolutely nothing, except freak out Moblit who had come into the kitchen for a glass of water and walked in on me muttering to myself like an old witch. I don’t even apologize. The droning background noise of fear remains with me, sharing the space with all my other thoughts.

After some time, Historia walks in carrying a large bucket of water and starts preparing dinner. I know that I should offer to help her, or at least acknowledge her presence, but I can’t bring myself to move. She will ask questions, and I’d prefer shoveling sheep dung rather than speak, right now. And anyway what I really should be doing is getting rest. In a bit more than four hours, I’m supposed to be at one of the watch posts, trying to spot possible enemies between the raindrops. I need to be sober and not half asleep for this. Even if there’s little chance I’ll actually see anything.

I have to stop wallowing, it doesn’t make anything better. So what if I had a little sliver of hope, for a short time, and it got squashed? Doesn’t matter. I'm not _worse_. Still operating under the knowledge that I'm fucked up, and that was already a given. I’d given up on being a hero anyway.

Placing both hands on the table, I stand up. My body’s a fucking dead weight. I put the bottle away in the cupboard, rinse the cup, and get the waste pan to throw the vegetable peelings away.

“Thank you,” Historia says. “I understand that you talked to squad leader Hange,” she adds.

“Yes.”

“And I suppose the news aren’t good, or you wouldn’t be making that face.” I let out a noise between a grunt and a sigh. “There’s nothing to be done?”

“She couldn't say.”

“Then there’s still a chance. You might get lucky and find a cure.”

This time, I snort. “There’s too many people around here relying on luck to get shit done. I made it so far without hope. Best way to avoid disappointment is to expect nothing, I should have learnt this by now.”

“There’s not much more to rely on, you know. Eren failed, we’re that close to being found out and arrested, the last news we got from the capital was that the one person who knew about my whereabouts has been tortured and killed… So yeah, let’s all get drunk and mope in the dark instead of trying to keep going. That’s how we’re going to survive.” She has delivered this entire tirade without lifting her eyes from the potatoes once.

I give a wry smile that she doesn’t see. “You find me disappointing, don’t you?”

“You give up too easily,” she snaps.

“Knowing when to give up is a valuable skill.” She doesn’t answer. “What else would you have me do? Go out and yowl in the rain, thrash a tree or two and come back like nothing happened? What is to you, if I drink and sulk? Let me process the utter failure of my entire life the way I want to. Nobody’s watching me, nobody’s looking up to me. I don’t have a… a standard to uphold, no expectations to live up to except the ones I set myself. And that’s not very high.”

Historia slowly puts her knife down. “Would you say this to your sister?” she asks, her voice a mere whisper that cuts through me.

My entire body tenses up. “You do _not_ speak of my sister.”

“I thought you called her little one, too.”

The waste pan goes crashing down on the tiled floor, its content falling into a sloppy pile. My hands grip the edge of the wooden counter, knuckles whitening with the effort to contain the tears I feel stinging my eyes. Fuck. I thought I could deal with it. I crouch to hide my face, and fling the scattered peels back into the bucket. I take a deep breath and bury my confused feelings deep inside. When I straighten up again, Historia is looking at me, her eyes harder than I’ve ever seen them. They soften almost instantly.

“You didn’t even tell me she died. I learnt it through the others, who themselves had heard squad leader Hange speaking about it.”

“Why would I tell you? Why would I tell anyone anything? It’s my burden to bear.”

“You don’t have to bear it alone. I, for one, intend to be your friend.”

I manage to conjure up a thin smile. “I’m a grown woman with temper control problems, Historia. I don’t think you should try to be my friend. You _have_ friends.”

“I will do what I want,” she replies.

There’s something in the way she sets her mouth, in the stubbornness of her gaze, that tears at my heart. I wipe my hands down on a cloth, walk to the young blonde girl, and hug her. She tenses up at first, staying stiff and still, here arms dangling down her sides. The stance of someone who hasn’t been held often… I don’t let go. Little by little, I feel the edge wear off, her body soften. Hesitantly, she places her arms around me and her head gently touches my shoulder. She lets out a long sigh. She’s so small, seems so frail. I know that her body is a lot stronger than it looks like, but she’s still just a child. Askal was about that age when I hugged her last, after a visit home, years ago. My throat tightens and tears sting my eyes again. Control, Vic. Keep it hidden.

I hold out Historia at arms’ length and look her into the eye. “I don’t know if it will amount to much, but I promise to be a bit less disappointing, little one.”

She laughs, a light, childish burst of laughter. “I’ll take it,” she says. “I need to get back to the potatoes, now, or there will be nothing to eat for dinner.”

As I pass her the knife she had set down, a shrill, ear splitting scream echoes inside my head.

I gasp, trying to reach a chair. My scar is burning, I’m falling, falling, people are screaming at me. Barely holding myself upright, I focus on the kitchen.

I smell potatoes, I see the tiles, I feel a stone in my shoe, I taste pear liquor, I hear water boiling. _Breathe_.

“What’s wrong?” Historia’s voice reaches my ears through the screams.

I exhale slowly and let myself down onto the chair. “I don’t know. I keep getting those spells.”

“Have you told Hange about them?” she asks, almost severe.

“Yes. Well, I mean… I must have. It’s because I don’t sleep well, I think.”

“Then go get some rest before taking up tonight’s watch.”

My heart is pounding. “Yes, you’re right.”

Frowning, she nods and watches me leave the room.

I reach the top of the stairs and my bed, and collapse onto it. This can’t keep happening… I need to regain control over Other V, over myself, over everything.

\--

A few hours later, alone on my watch post, I concentrate on the last part of me that’s neither wet nor cold : the inside of my stomach. Which is empty. I got up too late to eat before having to leave for this wet hell. The rain hasn’t stopped after the morning’s thunderstorm, and it seems that it’s been raining for a decade. Despite the waxed coat and wide brimmed hat, I’m soaked to the bones, shuddering. I strain my eyes to make sure I don’t miss any suspicious movement in the darkness, but there’s nothing. Nobody in their right mind would attack us in such weather anyway. If we can’t see anything without lamps, neither can they, unless they’ve forced someone to evolve night vision with heir godforsaken experiments. I stomp on the wooden planks to make blood flow in my frozen feet. The boots I’m wearing haven’t been waterproofed, and they make a wet, squishy noise. I can feel the cold water between my toes, running down my arms, on my hands, seeping everywhere. My braid feels heavy, gorged with water, and I can’t stop sniffling. I _hate_ the rain.

Relentlessly, it pours down onto the forest and the mountain. At the very least, people won’t question why my eyes look puffy if I indulge in a good old cry : I can always say that I caught a head cold. I think that my time is almost up, the next shift is going to start any minute now. I strain my ears, and yes, I do hear a horse. For good measure, I shoulder the rifle and aim at the curtain of rain. But the person getting closer is not an enemy. Soon, Sasha is climbing the ladder and shakes herself like a dog.

“What the hell happened to your hat?” I ask her.

“I didn’t tie it properly and it flew away.”

Despite the little lamp she’s carrying, it’s too dark for her to see my deadpan stare. “Take mine,” I say, unfastening the string.

“No, no, you’ll get soaked on the way back! It’s my mistake, I have to live with it now.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” I tell her, planting the wet hat on her head. “I’ll dry when I get to the house. I already have to wring my hair like a washcloth anyway.” I make out a faint smile on her lips. “Good luck,” I say, taking the lamp from her, and I slide down the ladder.

Horse. Path. House. I could have left her the coat too, for the good it’s doing… The ride back finishes what the watch had started : by the time I leave the horse to Connie to take care of, there’s not an inch of me that’s still warm or dry. I splash through enormous puddles of muddy water to get to the house. I’m positively covered in cold, sticky mud. I can’t go to sleep like this. To start with, it’s disgusting, and if I don’t at least dry off a bit, I’ll catch my death. It’s four in the morning, if I take a quick bath in the kitchen, nobody will even know. I don’t really want to use the bath room, it’s cold and there’s a leak in the roof making it barely less damp than the outside.

I shed the coat and boots in the muddy cloakroom, and, wet socks in hand, I pad to the kitchen. At least, this room should be warm.

Shit, it isn’t. Whoever was in charge of it forgot to stack the fire. Hell, there _must_ be the remains of a fire somewhere in this house.

I audibly sigh with relief when I see embers in the sitting room’s fireplace. I won’t get warm water, but I’ll dry properly. Within the next fifteen minutes, I’ve gone up for clean clothes, washed myself and my hair the best I can, and I’m kneeling in front of the fire, feeding it large logs, with the bottle of liquor and a cup next to me. Once it’s roaring, I set the blanket I took from my bed right in front of it and sit, letting the warmth invade my body and banish the damp and the cold away to hell. I’m soon almost too hot, and I take my jumper off. Sweet, sweet flames, crackling noisily, almost covering the sound of this eternal rain still falling outside.

“Leave it to the arsonist to make a damn good fire,” Levi says from behind me. Of course.

I turn around and see him leaning on the doorframe, a steaming teapot in one hand and a cup in the other. I eye him carefully, trying to determine whether he’s going to keep avoiding me, or ask me to leave. I’m too comfortable to move, if he wants to be alone, he can sit in a room where there’s no fire. But he walks to the chair that’s closest to the hearth, hooks the tea table with a foot to pull it closer, and sets his stuff on it before sinking into the chair.

I elect to pretend I never attacked him in the forest. “Did I wake you with my comings and goings?” I ask.

“No.” He rests his head back, and sighs. “I sleep about as much as you eat.” I chuckle. He closes his eyes, and I look at the fire again. “From now on,” I hear him mutter, “you’re in charge of all the fucking fires in this house. How d’you even manage to get it going that strong?”

Still staring into the flames, I smile. “My father was a woodworker. He taught me everything about wood’s worst enemy. How to build a fire, feed it, respect it. You know, fire doesn’t take orders; it barely takes suggestions. People tend to bother it too much, try to make it do what they want. Fire does what _it_ wants.” I lean back on my elbows, feeling the intense heat on my face. My entire body is getting lighter; I’m not cold any more. “After my mother died and he moved us to Kassle, he more or less locked himself in his workshop and left me to take care of my sister. We sometimes went hungry, but we were never cold. I always found something to burn, wood scraps, paper… I don’t know, I suppose I like being able to understand and influence something that makes so many humans scared.”

I hear a deep breath, and remember that I’m not the only one in the room. Shit, Victoria. You’re not in the cave anymore.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’ve been alone so long that I don’t realize when I’m talking out loud to myself.”

He doesn’t answer. Quietly, I reach for the bottle and pour myself another cup. I sip it slowly, mesmerized by the flames.

“Did you like it, living in the capital?” 

I guess that means he doesn’t mind my monologues… “Compared to the shitty village I came from, it was another world. Of course I liked not being hungry, having warm baths every day, good food and pretty clothes. But I couldn’t help it, I felt uncomfortable. Every party that I performed at, there was enough food to feed four villages like mine, and it never got eaten. It was thrown out every morning, as the nobles went back to sleep off their night. I had seen people starve, die of the cold. Hundreds are kept in filth right below their feet, and they still wasted it all like it was nothing.” I put the cork back on the bottle. “But having official capital citizenship was an upgrade, that’s undeniable, particularly for someone like me.”

He leans forward, pours himself tea, and looks at his fingers. “Someone like you?”

I give a slight frown. “Yes, a nobody, an orphan. I was raised by a courtesan, to become a tavern dancer, remember?”

“I remember,” he says, quietly.

I frown harder. “So you understand what I mean. You weren’t born in Mitras either, I can tell. Where are you from?” I’m not sure he will answer, but if I don’t ask there’s no way I’ll know. And for a reason I can’t exactly pinpoint, I really, _really_ want to know more about him.

He leans back again, making the leather squeak. “I was born in the filth you were talking about. I don’t even know when. I was raised by a criminal, to become a criminal, because that’s the only way I could survive.”

I lift my eyes to look at his face. He doesn’t seem to be upset by what he’s telling me. There is no emotion displayed on his features, no anger, no sadness, no pride either. He’s exposing a fact, he could have said that he has black hair or given me the time of the day with the exact same expression. I don’t think he’s saying this to make me feel bad. And he wouldn’t want my compassion anyway. A question burns my lips. Should I dare? Will he shut down, if I pry? “How did you get out?” I ask in a whisper.

His fingers twitch slightly. “I made the right choices,” he mutters.

I wait for more, but he doesn’t say another word. I turn around, exposing my back and my hair to the heat of the fire. “I went there once, you know. Underground District. The officer who gave orders to me, he took me there when I started rebelling, when I refused to kill the target I’d been assigned. I was in full costume, headdress and all, and he dragged me down. ‘This is where you and your sister will end up if you don’t do as you’re told’, he said, showing me a whore house, ‘because this is where you belong’. Then he pretended he was going to leave me there if I didn’t beg him to forgive my audacity. I obeyed, swearing to myself that I’d have his head, one day.” I pause, remembering that night. I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone as much as this disgusting excuse of a man. “This is what they see the underground people as. A whole city of boogey men to make children finish their peas and less powerful adults do the king’s bidding. Unhappy with the population purges? With food distribution? Could be worse; could be sent to the Underground. Could be fed to titans. We all live surrounded by fear. Everyone.”

I shake my head to make my hair spread out and feel it. It seems to be dry enough, now. I kneel on the blanket, dig inside my pocket for some ribbon and run my fingers into my now warm curls, then start braiding.

“I’ll be honest, I still took their money, ate their cakes, drank their vintage wines and admired the jewellery. But I think I prefer this gut piercing liquor, this itchy blanket, the fire I made myself and an old piece of ribbon for my hair.” I sigh. “I’ll stop bitching now,” I add quietly, eyes on the flames. “So you can enjoy your tea.”

I fall silent, concentrating on the swift movement of my fingers. I get no reaction from Levi. Perhaps I bored him enough and he fell asleep. Oh well; at least, he’ll get some rest. It’s quiet here, almost peaceful. I try tying my braid with the ribbon, but it slips. Cursing under my breath, I try again, and again. What the hell is happening to me? I must have had too much to drink, and my fingers are numb from the temperature change. I look up to see if there’s something I could use, a piece of string, anything, and I meet Levi’s eyes, flames reflecting into his grey irises. I start blushing under the intensity of his gaze, warmth creeping up my neck and cheeks. Has he been staring all this time? No, he’s not looking at me, he’s looking into the flames, like I was doing earlier. Slowly, he lowers his head. I realize that I was holding my breath, and relax my shoulders.

I have to say something, do something. I let out a short laugh. “There’s one or two things I miss, however. Warm baths, to start with. And staff. I would only need to wave my hand, and someone would bring me tea and do my hair for me.” I flip the unattached braid behind my back.

To my surprise, Levi gets up, picks up the teapot, quietly walks to the fireplace, pours tea into my cup. He crouches and hands it to me, still showing no facial expression whatsoever, his cold eyes planted into mine. I’m too stunned to even think of saying thank you. What is he doing?

“I’ll leave the hair to you, though. Wouldn’t want you to think it’s an attack.”

What in all hells… I have absolutely no idea how to react to this, so I dip my lips into the warm tea. He still hasn’t broken eye contact. My heartrate accelerates markedly.

“I… I suppose that’s a reference to… I mean, Hange has told you about…” He nods and stands up, finally looking away. “Good. I didn’t want to have to, you know. Explain.” I drink a little more tea. He’s still standing there, staring at the fire, now. Did I just barely stammer three sentences out? I have to get a grip. He’s not looking at me anymore, but his actions were unsettling enough to send my thoughts into turmoil. It's not scary turmoil, however. It's not even unpleasant. “I’ll be able to find out more when I can go back to the capital,” I add.

“We won’t be here much longer,” he replies. “Just waiting for the orders.”

“I thought so.” I finish the tea and suppress a yawn. The sky is getting a little greyer, and it seems that the rain has finally stopped, sometime during our discussion.

“You should get some rest,” Levi says. “I know you’ve slept nothing over the last two days.”

“Look who’s talking,” I whisper with a smile. Yes, there’s no denying it. This was nice, this conversation, this eerie, unlikely moment of peace with Levi, of all people. I haven’t been that close to feeling comfortable with another human in a long time. I feel my cheeks flush again and my smile get involuntarily wider.

 _Oh no_.

Oh, no, no, no, Vic, that’s a bad idea, that’s not going to end well. I should leave this room now, before I make a mistake. I’m pretty sure he’d want nothing to do with me anyway, and with reason. When I try to get up, however, the world spins, forcing me to sit back down.

Levi leans down, grabs my arm and pulls me up. “I’m not the one who can barely _stand_ ,” he says as I steady myself. Other V doesn’t even react, and I’m not sure whether it’s a good sign or not. His hand is crushing my forearm, sheer strength radiating from the ease with which he lifted me off the ground.

This time, I’m close enough to be sure. I see it. Undoubtedly. One side of his mouth is curling up into a minimalist smile. But it’s a smile. Emboldened by it, by the liquor, by the night, I throw the very short-lived caution out of the proverbial window and I lean in towards his ear. “Then _someone_ better make sure I don’t fall,” I whisper. 

I hear him draw a sharp breath, and I hold mine.

A few seconds go by, during which neither of us move. Mistake made; and I’d give anything to see the look on his face _now_ , but I’m not sure I even know what I want to see, what I expected would happen.

Where do I go from here? I can hear blood thumping in my ears; a log falls apart in the fireplace, followed by a loud hiss.

Slowly, without a word, he opens his hand and frees my arm. I pick up my blanket and leave the room before he thinks of something to say.


	18. Saints and Sinners

“Vic, we got our orders,” Sasha tells me as she rushes past the kitchen. I tense up, carefully place the plate I was washing on the counter, dry my hands and – freeze. What am I expected to do, exactly? Join the briefing? I doubt there will be anything to do for me, might as well keep doing the washing up.

“Victoria!” That’s Hange. I suppose they _are_ waiting for me to join, then. I head to the sitting room, lips pinched, my entire body adopting a defensive stance despite myself. When I walk through the door, Levi’s eyes barely lift from the piece of paper he’s holding. I’m not sure what I was thinking, last night, but he certainly hasn’t changed his attitude towards me because of it. Never mind; a few hours of sleep later, I realize that I was just being stupid and if he wants to act like nothing happened, I’ll take this way out gladly.

I sit on a chair at the very back of the room, in a corner. There’s another minute of silence, broken only by Connie muttering to himself and fussing with his seat. This time, Levi’s gaze leaves the document and rests on the boy, steely, unwavering. He waits, not saying a word, not moving an eyelash. Sasha eventually nudges Connie, who lifts his head, meets his captain’s stare, turns beet red and sits, his body awkwardly angled on the bench.

Levi then starts reading us Erwin’s orders. As he lists the information and the details of the plan, I feel I’m being transported in another reality entirely: we are going to attempt a coup. The current Royal government and the Cult of Walls are withholding information from the population and Commander Smith of the goddamn Survey Corps has decided that he would not stand for it. We’re running out of time, they’re closing in on us, and Eren is so far unable to display the hardening ability when he’s in Titan form, so the next step is to go on the offensive. Since the priest they had taken prisoner has been tortured and assassinated, it’s pretty obvious that whoever wants to get their grubby hands on Eren and Historia are operating with a questionable set or morals – or a high sense of duty. Both being equally dangerous, based on my experience of human nature.

The plan in itself, however risky, is straightforward enough for now : lure our opponents out by using what they want as bait, and trap them to conduct our own interrogation. To make it a _little_ safer, Jean and Armin will play the parts of Eren and Historia. Poor Jean audibly groaned when he was told that he’d have to impersonate Eren. Again, he said. Cause they tried that one already, it seems.

To my disbelief, nobody has anything to say about the sheer _insanity_ of the plan. Legs folded underneath me, chin resting on my palm, I watch the kids leave in silence, one by one, as Levi burns Erwin’s letter. Historia looks like she’s about to throw up. It seems that her family has a heavy hand in all of the lies and dissimulations that have been going on; she must be feeling like a special sort of wasted space. Hange clears out a couple details as to how long her men have to get Eren and Historia to safety, then she leaves too. I get up to follow; there weren’t any orders for me, safe to assume I’ll have to wait for a new set of instructions, if there’s still a commander to give them after the stunt they’re about to pull.

“Victoria, a minute.” My hand contracts on the doorknob.

I can detect nothing in his tone. Nothing at all. Threat, anger, expectation; I simply can’t tell. To think that my survival used to depend on reading people…

Slowly, I turn around. “Of course.”

I feel his eyes follow me as I retrace my steps back into the room. I take a seat again, closer to where he is, this time.

“You’re coming to Trost,” he says. “I’ll order gear to be given to you.”

Before I can control it, my mouth drops open. “I what?” He doesn’t answer. Did I hear this right? “Are you sure? That wasn’t in the orders.”

He looks towards the window, then at me again. “Doesn’t need to be.”

“So it’s your prerogative to handle me?” I reply, unable to contain the sarcasm in my voice. Again, he looks away, then back at my face. “And that’s what you elect to do? Take me with your squad?” He nods briefly. “It’s too risky.”

“I decide if a risk is too great for _my_ soldiers.”

With great effort, I manage to not stand up and slap him. “Have you learnt nothing? Have you not seen what happens when I lose control? You were there, in the forest, weren’t you?”

“You won’t lose control.”

If that’s an attempt at making me inordinately angry at him, he’s succeeding. “Oh, tell me, please, how can you predict that with such certainty? You can see into the future, now, on top of being the strongest soldier in this army?”

His eyes narrow. “Here’s your choice, Victoria. Come with us and not lose control, or stay behind to welcome whoever they’re sending after us.”

I force myself to breathe out gently. “And when that happens, I will turn and kill them all.” Again, he nods. A strand of hair gets in front of his eyes, and he jerks his head to the side to get it to fall back in place. “That’s not much of a choice you’re giving me. The certainty of another massacre, or the hope of control.”

“That’s what you have to work with.”

“There’s always a third option; I could run.”

“What would Historia say?” he asks, without a hint of irony on his face.

 _Shit._ “Not having a way out doesn’t work out well with me,” I whisper.

“You have a way out,” he replies, leaning back in the chair, not breaking eye contact. “Coming with me.”

I hold his gaze, trying to sort out through the chaos of my thoughts while trying to ignore that the hairs on the back of my neck are bristling. Seconds go by; I haven’t had the opportunity to truly witness the strength of his willpower but I know I won’t make him change his mind, I can only try to gain some control on the situation. “I’ll do it, on one condition.”

“I’m not in the habit of letting anyone negotiate orders.”

“Listen to me, Levi.” I see his lips twitch. “I am not a soldier, I am not under your, or anyone’s, orders. If you’ve taken a little bit of time to figure out how I operate, you know I’m not refusing to fight to protect my life. So I need you to promise me something. When I turn –“

“If you turn,” he interrupts.

I glare at him. How dare he? How arrogant must he be to believe he knows better? “ _When_ I turn,” I repeat, “tomorrow in Trost, or during another operation you’ll make me join, it doesn’t matter, the next time I turn, if stopping me means putting any of the kids in danger or risking mission failure, then you leave me behind. Understood?”

Silence. I am not lowering my gaze, out of the question. “Understood.” I feel the tension leave my body; I haven’t heard him tell a lie, there’s a good chance he’ll keep his word. Because I can get over killing people attacking me, but if I harm someone on my side, or worse, someone I care for, there will be no coming back from it. “When we’re out there,” he adds, “I can’t have you question orders. This has to stop now.”

I let a small smile dance on my lips. “I’m stubborn, not stupid. I’ll be a good, compliant little soldier.”

“Orders aren’t about obedience; they’re about trusting the people you’re fighting with to make the right decision at the right time.”

Again, our eyes meet, and again, I feel electricity down my spine. That’s a problem I didn’t have before, developing an attraction to someone who has displayed nothing but coldness and even contempt for me. I need to shut this down fast or I’ll end up making stupid decisions.

“I don’t blindly trust people,” I tell him. “I just can’t.”

“Nobody said anything about blind trust, or about people.”

Can I suspend caution with him? Can I have enough faith in his abilities to let him, for a while at least, make decisions for me? The answer isn’t long to come, and there’s no reason for me to lie. “I’ll trust you.”

“Then gear up. We leave at sundown, in an hour.” He gets up without another word, without another look for me.

As I listen to his footsteps receding in the corridor, I realize that not once has Other V come to whisper warnings into my ears.

\--

The next morning, we’re in Trost District. We left the hideout just in time : we had barely reached the forest that we spotted soldiers searching the grounds and the building. Levi wasn’t too pleased about them even thinking he’d let himself and his squad be caught that easily. Eren and Historia left for the arranged secure location, and we proceeded to walk the streets trying to be seen, with Armin and Jean in disguise trailing after us, left glaringly unprotected.

I mean, the plan is sound, but I’m not sure whoever we’re up against will be stupid enough to fall for it. People pulling that kind of strings have to be slightly more clever than that. But then again, it’s unlikely they’re doing their kidnapping themselves, and who knows with hired hands…

In any case, the population has seen us. Well, they’ve mostly recognized Levi, who looks like he’d rather do without the attention. I’m supposed to keep my identity a secret so nobody knows I’m with the Scouts, or I’d swoop in and get all eyes away from him. It’s not like I’m not used to being a diversion. I’m standing at the back of the group, hood over my face, keeping an eye on our surroundings. Other V is under control. To her, a rowdy crowd is hardly dangerous, and half starved citizens are unlikely to do me any harm.

A few men are starting to get a bit too close for comfort, though, and the captain is being pushed and pulled. How he remains calm is beyond my understanding, I would not have tolerated anyone’s hands on me, even not dangerous ones. It seems that they are holding the corps responsible for not killing off all the titans and costing money? How do they think the world works? Do they even have the slightest idea of how the truly wealthy live? I wonder if they question the salaries of the central MP members, who do nothing but drink and walk around like they shit gold every day despite never risking their lives. Of course there’s a shortage of food now, the district has been all but deserted and government support is nowhere to be seen… I see Levi’s head turn towards a nearby house; his face changes colour and his eyes widen, then turn dark and clouded. When I look in the same direction, I see a gaunt woman holding a wailing baby. Her frame clearly shows that she hasn’t eaten a proper meal in a long time. The sight makes my blood boil; I know a handful of people who’re gonna have to answer for this. I’ll see to it personally. I turn again, but Levi has already refocused his gaze on the faces of the people crowding around us. One of them reaches out and grabs Sasha’s arm, spouting derogatory comments in his slurred tone. She cringes and recoils. I slip between bodies to get closer. That’s not acceptable, and I can very well teach a lesson or two without being recognized.

I don’t have time to reach her that we hear hooves and wheels. Levi shoves the men out of the way. “Oh no, Eren and Krista have been kidnapped again!” someone yells.

Well, I stand corrected. They really are that stupid… Following them isn’t exactly hard either. Other V barely whispers to me when I briefly lose sight of the squad and have to get on a roof to spot them. I push the shoulder pain at the back of my mind and make myself not pay attention to the sensation of being pulled back down. I won’t be in the air for very long, and try to let her understand as much. Perhaps they’re right when they say I shouldn’t give up, perhaps if I train and get used to it again, I could fly just fine.

When we get to a warehouse, I abide by the instructions and remain with both feet on the ground while Levi and his squad spread out on the roofs and walls. I select a nice pile of crates to hide behind, and risk an eye through a side door that was left ajar, only to see that Armin is being groped by one of the henchmen. What is it with these people and their inability to keep their hands to themselves? One can be a lowlife without feeling the need to fondle every girl seen – or apparent girl. I see silhouettes quietly slipping inside the building.

Voices interrupt my fantasy of cutting off the man’s fingers. I crouch behind the crates, and listen. Three men are entering the warehouse, one of them distinctly older and balding. He’s telling off the others for not making sure that the prisoners are really who they look like. Seems like we’ve found the brains of the operation.

I steal inside behind them; the men are too busy panicking about the possibility of a mistake to notice me, even if I hadn’t been quiet. Right as they’re about to uncover the whole scam, Mikasa leaps out of between crates and knocks them out cold. On the other side of the building, Levi is doing the same. I barely have time to notice what exact movements have been involved. Their speed and precision are breath taking, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Mikasa is now pinning the bald man to the ground, asking Connie if anyone else is going to enter the warehouse.

The boy has barely confirmed that there’s nobody around that I catch the glint of metal in the man’s hand; he’s managed to take a pistol out! I launch myself in their direction, but Sasha is faster to react : she shoots an arrow right into the firearm, inches away from Mikasa’s hand. Well, if I had any remaining wish to join the military again, I’d certainly be somewhat depressed that I’ll never be as good as they are.

We tie everyone up nicely, and Levi proceeds to interrogate the bald man. Despite his blatant lies about being only a driver, Mikasa recognizes him as the head of one of the wealthiest merchant companies in the district. As they argue, I go through the henchmen’s pockets for hidden knives or firearms, but I only find a box of matches. Might come handy. After a very short deliberation with himself, Levi decides to bring the man elsewhere to have a talk with him. I hope he at least has something to say that was worth our time.

I hear a disgusting giggle on my left. The bathroom stain who was groping Armin earlier is whispering something as the boy is trying to replace his gag. Jean intervenes to get Armin out of the way. Yeah, that’s not gonna be enough. I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but this mission is almost getting boring.

“I’ll close the door,” I say out loud. Levi looks over his shoulder and nods, urging his squad to follow him outside.

I wait for them to be out, kneel next to the giggling man, reach for his right hand, and break his fingers, one after the other, muffling his howls of pain with my other hand. “Remember this next time you feel like fondling a child,” I whisper into his ear, smiling. “You’re lucky, if I didn’t think it would get people in trouble, I’d be done with you here and there.”

I get up and hurry away; Other V is already telling me to kill, kill, _kill_. Pulling the heavy warehouse door to shut it, I hear footsteps behind me. I whirl to face whoever is standing there, ready to attack, but it’s only Levi, looking me up and down; was he afraid I’d try and free the men, effectively going back to my former allegiances? Did he see me break the fingers? Quietly, he makes a gesture to get me to pull the hood over my face, then he turns around. I follow him, in silence.

We soon find ourselves on top of the Wall. I had forgotten how impressive it was, to be standing up there, with the fields and forests spreading out at my feet. At the very least, it allows me to make sure that Other V hasn’t had me developed a fear of heights. It’s something.

I can’t see anyone from the garrison around us. We’re alone on this portion of the wall, listening to Reeves explaining how my former “employers”, the First Division, has blackmailed him into serving their interests, threatening his life and that of his family. Same old methods. Not everyone can feign their own death like I did… He was told to capture Eren and Historia, but obviously no other information was given to him. To his credit, Levi doesn’t seem to blame this old man for his decisions. I watch him stare towards the houses of the district, the boulder that sealed the gate, as he shares an accurate analysis of the situation. If Reeves Corporation falls, Trost will too. He then proceeds to announce that he’s prepared to let both kids be taken by Reeves. I’m the only one who doesn’t look like I’m going to punch the captain in the face. I’d rather wait and see if he’s completely lost his mind before throwing him off the wall.

He ignores any and all protestations to elaborate on his plan. It’s a negotiation, that he’s conducting. In exchange for Eren and Historia/Krista, the corporation will secretly work with the Corps and against the royal government. He’s appealing to the humanity in old Reeves, and offering him a choice, while until then he had none. And he’s doing so with a calm I’m starting to think he truly feels, still without showing a single emotion on his sharp features. He’d be good at cards, make a fortune if he was the gambling type…

Almost as an afterthought, he manages to secure delivery of rare goods to the Scouts, including his precious tea. I just wish he’d thought of adding decent wine to this list, but his last demand wins Sasha over. I can feel a smile forming on my lips. Fucking brilliant. No lives taken, almost no blood spilled, and we get an ally. Still smiling, I watch the two men shake hands on their deal. Levi gets up, and Reeves takes out another cigarette.

“I’m all out of matches,” he says. “I don’t suppose any of these children smoke?”

Levi turns to me. “I saw this one steal a box of matches from your men. Victoria, light the man’s cigarette, will you? Be careful, not his _face_. He’s on our side now.”

Sticking my tongue out would be extremely childish, but Hell, isn’t it tempting. I scrape the match and ignite the cigarette. Reeves thanks me; his eyes go over my face, and he frowns, but if he recognizes me, he doesn’t say anything. I keep the smile on my lips. “If you could slip booze along with tea in the… special shipments, it’d help a lot. Imagine that we have to deal with him _every day_.”

I hear a grunt from behind me, and stifled laughter from the kids. The day wasn’t entirely wasted. Silently, I thank Other V for not acting up; I never imagined I’d be able to do all of this. I know Levi would never say ‘I told you so,’ but to be fair, he’d be entitled to. At least this time.

\--

I was told to stay with Eren and Historia in the fortified house for the next mission, and I’m relieved, because it’s raining buckets again and I don’t want to have to turn down a “non order but still sort of an order” because of the weather. The wait wasn’t really long, however, and soon the squad came back with two prisoners who were marched down the stairs into holding cells.

I’ve been sitting at a table since the, playing with stalactites of wax rolling down a candle, vaguely listening to the kids debating on what to do next and complaining about the sounds of another human being tortured a few feet from them. Their sense of right and wrong is being destroyed, right now, and some of them can definitely handle it better than others. Only Armin is actually having doable ideas, but he makes the mistake of saying out loud that he knows the people can be easily manipulated, an fact that is not well received by his friends. They are surprisingly naïve still. I know that I should feel some sort of empathy with them, since I went through the same heart breaking process of shattering my own values, but I can’t. It doesn’t help that I can’t have empathy for my old self either… We’re not good people anymore, he’s saying. Well, neither are the ones being interrogated. They lied, they killed to protect their own interests, they maintained a system that caused incredible suffering and loss. There’s no pity for them in my heart, and their wailing is not upsetting for me.

Not that whatever it is they’re doing down there seems to be accomplishing anything. They’ve been at it for some time now. I never really liked such methods of interrogation. It’s crude, messy, and most of the time useless.

Historia sighs, gets up and walks to me. “Could you do something?”

“Me? I’m not good at torture. I was usually sent for a clean kill, you know.” She sighs again.

“I’ll see what I can do.” I take the candle and make my way downstairs. The howls of pain echo in the staircase, giving the shadows on the stone walls an eerie background. Other V is waking up, warning me that I should probably not be walking straight towards the source of such noise, but it’s almost easy to ignore her.

I hover outside the door, trying to decide whether I should just go in or not. I can hear Hange’s voice, but not what she’s saying. The man wails in pain once again, then laughs. I raise an eyebrow that nobody sees; yeah, that’s not going to cut it. The door opens and Hange, Levi and Moblit walk out, their clothes covered in blood. Over Levi’s shoulder, I see the limp shape of a man tied to a chair, his head hanging low; blood dripping from his nose into his mouth.

Hange closes the door and looks at me. “Everything all right?”

“I should be asking you,” I reply, shooting a look of concern at Moblit who looks even paler than usual. “What you’re doing is not working, except if your ultimate goal was to make a lot of noise and upset the kids.”

“Upset the kids?” she asks.

“Yeah, morals and stuff. They’ll get over it if we get results, most people do.”

Hange looks at me. “He’s ready to die. He’s saying that he’s protecting the peace, that him and his fellow "protectors of the king" are the reason there are no wars.”

If my eyes could roll all the way to the back of my skull and back, they would. “What a shitty deal. Peace… with people starving, and no freedom.”

Hange sighs. “I’ve never done this before. I’m starting to feel sorry for him.”

Levi leans on the wall and starts wiping his hands. “I _have_ done this before but I think this man is impossible to crack. I’m starting to believe that he actually _likes_ the pain.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he did, you know.” They both look at me. “You have no idea what happens in this branch, have you? I was on the lowest of ladders and still heard too much. I wouldn’t touch this type of nutcase with a ten-foot pole.”

“Can you at least go in? You know how to inflict pain, don’t you?” Hange asks.

“If what he did hasn’t yielded results,” I reply, pointing at the impressive amount of blood on Levi’s gloves, “I’m not going to do much more, but I’ll try.”

She unlocks the door and I walk in. The smell of fresh blood immediately assaults my nostrils and I wince. By the time my eyes get used to the darkness, the man has snickered twice. “Sending someone else, eh?” he gargles. I don’t answer. He spits out blood, then lifts his head up; our eyes meet. Other V roars. I force myself to remain perfectly still; I know this man. He was the commanding officer to the man who gave _me_ my orders. Behind swollen eyelids, his eyes shine with a quiet, steady insanity I’ve never witnessed before. “Who are you?” he spits. “You think more pain will work? Go ahead.”

I walk closer and crouch in front of him, placing my chin in my hand, and try to assess how far they went. No fingernails left on either hand, several blows to the face, one eye out, nose most likely broken, as well as at least three ribs. No, indeed, more pain won’t work. He’s close to unbreakable; pain will not do anything to him, and he’s dangerous. His gaze is burning with the certainty that what he’s doing is right, that he will die a martyr for a cause greater than him, his gaolers, and the rest of humanity. I can’t repress a shiver.

My eyes linger on the necklace he’s wearing, a small chain of gold with a discrete pendant. It reminds me of a larger, more imposing collar I’ve seen in Trost, on a priest. The prominence of this Cult of Walls that was barely starting to be spoken of when I reached the cave is intriguing. Faith; blind obedience; fanaticism. Means purges and police wasn’t enough anymore to control the population. Means they’re feeling cornered. The fall of Maria should have nipped this in the bud; a religion praising walls that have failed to protect people? Bound to fail. But they're now intricately linked to the Kind and his protectors. What happened, five years ago, that made them so afraid of losing their supremacy?

“You’re not asking questions either? Like the other two who didn’t know how to interrogate, only knew about the pain?”

I stand up, grab a handful of his hair and tilt his head back. Gently, I probe for Other V, trying to see if she’s reacting to being in power over someone, instead of being afraid. I get nothing, only an eerie silence in my mind. _Good_. Staring into the insane eyes again, I smile. “My question doesn’t require pain to be answered.” I slip a finger under his collar and lift the chain. “Can I have this?”

His eyes widen. “Why would you want it?”

“It’s pretty.”

His broken lips curl up into a disdainful pout. “Take it; it will only ever be metal for thugs like you. There’s no way you can even start to understand what it means, to be honourable enough to wear this, whether it’s made of gold or straw. Dying at your hands will be the greatest honour of all, I’ve said it to the other three, and I’m saying it to you too.”

I let the chain fall back onto his chest and release his head. “Changed my mind. It’s not _that_ nice. Thanks anyway.”

He attempts a frown despite his injuries, and gurgles a swearword, triggering more blood to drip down onto his precious token of loyalty. I turn around, and only breathe again when I’ve closed the door and rested my back against it. Moblit is nowhere to be seen anymore.

“You can put the instruments away and spare your fists the fluids,” I tell Hange and Levi. “It would only fuel his determination and reinforce his faith in the King. I _hate_ fanatics. Very difficult to find an angle.”

“Then what are we going to do?” Hange asks. “It’s our last chance to find out about what place the Reiss family has in all of this.”

I lean in. “Break his spirit, not his bones.” Hange frowns; Levi pinches his lips. “He’s ready to die just to not be the weak link. Break the chain.”

“How, if his friends are the same?”

Levi puts his hand on Hange’s arm. “We don’t even need to break the chain; he just has to believe we have, and that he went through all of this in vain. He must think that he suffered for nothing.”

I smile at him. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Hange says.

“Can we at least clean up before we try?” Levi asks, showing her the blood-stained cloth.

I raise my candle and smile. “Let me get a fire going.”

\--

I’m sitting in the kitchen with a steaming cup of tea when I hear Levi’s footsteps in the doorway.

“Tea’s ready,” I say, gesturing to the teapot.

“You’re going to need something stronger than that.” Oh… good thing Reeves managed to get me a bottle of cherry liquor, then. I go grab said bottle and a clean glass. “Get one for me too.”

What in all hells… I don’t think I’ve seen him drink more than a cup of ale. I take another glass, and turn around to see him already sitting at the table, eyes fixated on the teapot, jaws clenched.

“What happened?” I pour two glasses. “Where’s Hange?”

“Writing a letter to Erwin.”

“He talked?”

“Oh, yeah, he spilled it all.” In utter disbelief, I watch him down the glass of liquor in one go. He gestures for more. I oblige.

“You cannot repeat what I’m about to tell you to _anyone_ ,” he whispers.

“I don’t speak to anyone. Except you, Hange, and Historia.”

“Especially Historia.”

I frown harder. “What did you learn?”

“I’m going to need your word, Victoria,” he says, looking into my eyes.

My throat goes dry. “I… you have it. I’ll be a tomb.”

He starts rolling the glass in his hand as he speaks. “You know that Erwin’s plan is to organize a coup and take power?”

“I still don’t know exactly how we’re going to do that, but yeah, I do remember what was said not two days ago.”

He shoots me an impatient glare. “Spare me the attitude, will you?” I pinch my lips and nod. I deserve this one. “He wants to do it peacefully. No bloodshed, no revolution.” He pauses, looks at the glass; take a sip. “I think he knew… or at least, suspected, and hoped he was right.”

“Knew what?” I whisper.

“The Reiss family is the real royal family. The current King is a decoy.”

A ball of lead falls in my stomach. What. The. Hell? My hand reaches out to the bottle to pour myself another glass. No, it won’t be enough. I bring the bottle to my lips, and take three long mouthfuls. The alcohol burns as I swallow it. Other V doesn’t even know how to react to this. A hundred questions are tumbling in my head, but I know he won’t answer all of them. “So, Historia…”

“Yup.” He takes a deep breath. “I know Erwin when we give the current government the boot, I think the idea will be to put Historia in their place, as true queen of our people.” I can’t even find an appropriate swearword. I, Victoria Feuerbach, am all out of words and sarcasm. “Do you even believe me?” Levi asks.

Believe him? I’m past that. I just expect the next lie we uncover to be even bigger, now. “If I can believe that the titans are related to humans, I can believe a century long lie about the royal family. What I’m not too sure about is why you’re telling me before anyone else.”

He puts the glass down and helps himself to some tea. “Because I need you to do something for us, and you need to know everything I know.” I’m tempted to drink a bit more, but it wouldn’t be sensible, however resistant I am to alcohol. “I heard you saying that you thought you still had useful, powerful contacts in the capital.” I give a short nod. I have _one_ contact, but he should be enough. “I need you to go to Mitras, in secret, get in touch with these people and do everything you can to ensure Erwin has support from as many people as possible when he tries to depose the King and the government.”

I should have asked for more liquor. “Does… does that mean that he doesn’t have support?”

“Nothing that we can really rely on.”

“What exactly is he… relying on, then?”

He puts his cup down. “Knowing him, he’s counting on the fact that people will make the right choice, perhaps with the help of a little… embellishment of reality.”

“And you don’t think they will make the right choice?”

He raises his head and looks right at me. “I think that there are many factors that influence decision making processes, and I’d prefer it if you were one of said factors.”

I reach across the table and fill my cup with tea. “What will you be doing?”

“We don’t have orders. But I can say without much doubt that it will involve baiting Historia’s father. No disguises, this time.”

“That’s a lot more dangerous than what I’ll be doing.”

“Anything we try will do shit-all if when the time comes, Erwin stands alone. Soon, we will be treated like criminals.”

A cold, insidious terror invades my entire being. “What if I can’t help? Wouldn’t it be better to have me with you, so you can launch me at the entire army you’ll likely be facing?”

He shakes his head. “Despite the mission in Trost going perfectly well, your fighting abilities are too unreliable as is and we don’t have the time to work on it now. However, your former position had given you more influence that you let on initially. Don’t deny it, I have enough information to know so, and this is something I can make use of. Your access to the highest spheres of politics can help us win more than your tendency to go berserk at unpredictable times. Are you telling me that you don’t think you’re capable of this either?”

I stare at him as he sets the tea aside and drinks yet another glass of liquor. So my old tricks might give us an advantage, eh? It will always go back to this, it seems, it doesn’t matter how hard I try to be a real soldier, I will always be more valuable as a pretty distraction. Might as well own it. “Of course I can do this.” He closes his eyes for a second, then opens them again and straightens up in the chair. “See,” I say with a smile, “I don’t need to fight to be useful.” There it is again, the hint of a half smile on his face. It disappears almost instantly, but I know I wasn’t mistaken. The liquor is going to my head, I can feel my cheeks getting warm. “When should I leave?”

“As soon as Hange finishes, Nifa will bring the report to Erwin. You’ll be going with her. When you’re there, you are to have no contact with the Survey Corps.”

“Very well. Do you want me to tell Historia before I go?”

“No, I’ll wait for the orders.”

“If I tell her now, it will give her time to consider it and accept. I’m not sure she will say yes immediately.”

“Leave that to me,” he says softly, putting the cork back on the bottle.

I frown. “Why?”

“Because you’d let her refuse.”

I can’t help smiling again; he’s not wrong. I finish the now cold tea. “Try not to be too harsh. Please.”

He averts his eyes. “I’ll do what I have to do. It’s not my role to be nice to anyone. Not even this child; we need her to say yes. You’ll be there to pick up the pieces, if we survive this.”

I sigh deeply. He’s right, I know he is. Even I can’t protect people from their fates. “I’ll wait to hear from you, then.”

He looks at me again. There’s no smile, but his eyes are not hard. I get up and run a cold hand in my hair and on my face. “Victoria.”

I close my eyes in a futile attempt to ignore how nicely my name and his voice seem to go together. “Yes?” I say, turning to him again.

He slides a piece of paper on the table, holding it down with one finger. “Your sister’s letter. I got it back from Hange.” I freeze, staring at the old, folded letter. “It’s not ours to keep. Use it to remember; her sacrifice must not be in vain.” I reach out and touch the letter. He’s still sitting and has lifted his gaze up to look at me. “Don’t do anything stupid, arsonist,” he says, lips barely moving.

“Like dying? Same to you. I’d hate for you to die when we’re so close to getting something done.”

“I, for one, don’t intend to die.” I can guess the exhaustion on his face, trace the lines left by countless nights waiting for sleep to come. For a reason I can’t fathom, tonight he isn’t unreadable to me anymore, and I see what was always there. I see the shadows of tears not shed, the lines left by hard choices and burdens shouldered alone. I see, and I understand that he has no other path than to keep on fighting and hoping, or else every scar, every loss, will have been for nothing. If I dared, if I wasn’t afraid he would close himself off again, I’d take his hands in mine and tell him that everything will be all right, that I’ll make sure he wins, this time. But it would be an empty promise, and I’ve had enough serving lies because they sound like hope.

“I will do my best, Levi. You can trust me.”

He doesn’t move an inch other than to lift his hand so I can take the letter. I pull it off the table, slowly, bury it in the leather pouch around my neck, and leave the room without another word.


	19. Of Treachery and Trinkets

Nifa and I don’t speak as we ride. Nobody tries to stop us when we enter the capital, hoods lowered over our eyes. We make our way towards the officers’ living quarters. Once she’s ascertained where Erwin is – with commander Pixis, it seems – I wish her good luck and set out in the streets.

I slip the Survey Corps cape off my shoulders and leave it in a corner. Underneath it I’m wearing the plainest clothes I could find, and obviously I’ve left the gear behind. Nobody will think that I look like a soldier, but I have to be careful not to get myself arrested for vagrancy… Judging by the state of the streets, the risk isn’t as great as I had thought. There are beggars at every corner, children barely covered in dirty rags running everywhere, bumping into passers-by, scrappy looking men hassling women, shopkeepers trying to shoo peddlers away. What on earth is the police doing? Busy arresting people like me, apparently, rather than maintaining order. The whole point of having Mitras citizenship used to be protection from crime; it seems another ideal is being shattered.

It doesn’t take me long to reach my destination; I recognize the gate, the strange sculptures above the wall, down to the way the street lamp casts its light onto the pavement. It isn’t much more of an effort to climb the railing. I land in the garden, quiet as a shadow, among rare essences and delicately trimmed bushes. I’ve always liked this garden, liked performing under the tall trees. I remember the first time I was told that I’d be dancing at a party thrown by commander-in-chief Darius Zackly.

I’d already been in the vicinity of prominent people before, but him? He had the power of the entire military in his hands. It had been somehow disappointing to meet a mild-mannered, exceedingly polite gentleman after picturing him as some sort of great war general. But behind that façade of politeness and even subservience, I soon discovered what a snake he was, how many lies he maintained to cover the deep disgust he felt towards the king and his council. He noticed it, how my gaze had changed after I overheard him talking to his secretary in the gloomy aftermath of a population purge. He noticed, and after a show, he came to talk to me, in this very garden. He told me to drop the pretence and asked why I worked for the MP, why I killed for them. I had been unable to answer him; by then, I had already started doubting that what I was asked to do was for the actual greater good. This absence of a clear reason – other than the need for protection and status – had marked the beginning of the end for me. That night, when Zackly came to find me in the shadows as I designed ways to dispose of him, was one of the turning points in my life, etched into my memory. There are such moments, when everything shifts and the world takes on a new layer of… whatever it is a life is made of. The day my mother died, the day I was injured, the day I went underground, the day Sasha fell from a tree and I decided to help her…

That night, the commander in chief sat me down with a glass of wine and asked me why I was obeying the orders. From that moment on, I started asking questions too. The chain of events triggered by this simple question has proven to be interesting, to say the least.

Other V is not happy with being almost unarmed, at night, in a garden where I’m definitely not supposed to be. Well, girl, wait until I find a way into the _house_. If nothing has changed, and I’d be surprised if it had, the study looks onto this side of the gardens. Yup, that’s still it, two glass doors opening on a terrace, with a stone path leading to the large greenhouse.

There’s a light still on. From behind a bush shaped like an eagle, I can see Darius Zackly at his desk, poring over his work, holding a candle dangerously close to the papers in his left hand. If I barge in, I’ll get shot at. I pick up some gravel and throw it onto the terrace. He looks up, frowns, and resumes his reading. A larger pebble should do the trick, then. I’ll aim at the doorframe; hopefully, I don’t smash the pricey windowpanes…

The pebble ricochets onto the wood, then onto the stone floor. This time, the general puts his papers and candle down, gets up and opens the doors wide.

“Is this a prank? Who is here?”

“You were gonna set fire to your blueprints,” I say from behind the bush. “I had to do something.”

I can’t see much in the dark, but his frown disappears, then reappears. I can read disbelief in his eyes. “Show yourself.”

“Only if you promise not to shoot.”

“I’m not armed.”

“We both know that’s a lie, Darius.”

He straightens up and looks towards my bush. “Is this you, Victoria? How… ?” I walk out of the shadows, smiling. I am somewhat relieved to see him smile too. It wasn’t too risky a move, but still. One never knows, as Other V is constantly reminding me with her shrieking. “Well, for the life of me!” He starts laughing, gesturing me to come inside. “Don’t stay in this damp garden, you’ll catch your death.”

“Death doesn’t want to be caught by me, you’ve said it yourself once.”

His smile wavers, but he makes it come back. He closes the doors behind us and I let myself sink in a deep, comfortable chair. Bliss.

“So,” he says, taking two glasses out of the drinking cabinet, “you’ve finally made it here?”

“You were expecting me?”

“Don’t tell me you thought I hadn’t noticed your… exploits in Chlorba.”

“So the rumours were true? You were there?”

“Ha! Of course not. But I sent someone. I could not believe it was you! There’s a part of me that doesn’t believe it still.” He hands me a glass of red wine. “Where have you been?”

His question is innocent enough, but it’s glazed with perceptible threat. He wonders why I’m back now, what I’m doing, who I’m working for. I have no energy for this sort of dance. “I don’t have time for small talk. I – “

He holds up a hand and sits. “You disappear for five years, resurface in a tavern, burn half a forest then turn up in my garden dressed like you’re out of the Underground. This is not small talk.”

I consider him carefully : he’s gained a bit of weight, his beard is slightly longer, his glasses are still the same old frames, but what strikes me the most is how exhausted he looks. I could never imagine him as a young man, and yet the depth of the lines around his eyes let me know that keeping up his charade for the past five years hasn’t been easy. He gave my life a new purpose, even if it caused my eventual fall from grace, I suppose I owe him an explanation.

“I was in hiding, outside Chlorba.”

“For five years?”

I nod. “I did terrible things and couldn’t face the world anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Other V stirs. Is he trying to pry out information from _me_? Or does he know more than I thought? I decide to ignore the question. “I wouldn’t have come here if the situation wasn’t critical.”

He takes a sip from his drink, and looks up. “Why _are_ you here, Victoria?”

“A terrible truth has come to my ears.”

He swallows. “So you’re here about Askal.” He lowers his gaze again. He’s… afraid? “I’m sorry, Victoria. I was unable to stop her.”

The idea that I have somehow managed to make this man fear my reaction enough to apologize to me, when I quite simply had dumped my sister onto him and left him with the responsibility, is intoxicating; I could get used to the sensation of being feared, instead of being afraid. “I don’t blame you for Askal. I had asked you to protect her from the ones who wanted to user her against me. This is something she did to herself, and if she held even the slightest resemblance to me, you wouldn’t have been able to do anything short of locking her up in a convent, and even then, she would have escaped. No, if that’s what you believed, you’re wrong. It’s worse than that.” His eyes shoot up again, wide open. “A lot worse.”

He gets up to fill my glass again. “Speak.”

I drink and savour the complex body of the vintage; a rich, intense red, with a finish of red berries. I haven’t had anything like it in years. “First, a question. What have you done over the past five years to work towards you lifelong dream?”

“Which one?”

“The one where the King and his Council are dangling from a rope and you’re the one to replace them.”

He chuckles. “That? Not much.”

“You didn’t pick up where we had left off?”

“Too dangerous. You were reckless, refusing that kill. They knew you had spent a lot of time with me, and I was afraid they would have my head.”

“So you did nothing at all?”

“I have been thinking of trying, now. I’m getting old, and I don’t have much time left. But where would I start? I had found you, you were a powerful lever I could use, but after you were gone? I laid low, and got used to it again. With the new rules, speaking of outside the walls is now taboo, the survey corps is almost outlawed, and the royal government is unbreakable.”

I lean closer. “What if I told you that the winds are turning, and that I came to see which way you’ll be looking when the storm comes?”

I see it immediately; the glint of hope in his eyes, all the possibilities he’s imagining again, just because I uttered a few words. And I know that I’ve won this round. My smile gets wider; I was right, I’m perfectly capable of pulling this off.

“What exactly are you saying?”

“I told you: I have uncovered a truth; I need to know you’ll be on my side so we work together towards the future I envision.” That’s taking it a tad far, I know. But whatever works, they say, and this works wonders.

He smirks. “Does the future involve the aforementioned rope?”

“Or any other contraption of our choice.”

“Speak,” he says again, less dismissive this time. In fact, his entire attention is on me.

Oh yes, indeed, this feeling of power is one I want to experience more often. With a wide grin, I take my time to explain, detaching every syllable. “The King. He’s a fake. A puppet. The real royal blood flows in the veins of the Reiss family. Rod, and his daughter, Historia, who is currently on the run with the Survey Corps and being actively looked for. They have lied for more than a century, Darius. This information is enough to make them fall. It’s all you ever wanted, and I’m bringing it to you on a plate,” I conclude, with a graceful hand gesture.

A long silence stretches, broken only by the cracking of the fire. Elated, I wait for his answer. Zackly steeples his fingers over his lips and leans forward. “Do you have proof?” he asks, eventually.

I feel the smile disappear from my face. “We have the girl!” How can he not be more enthusiastic? What have I done wrong _this_ time?

“Who is we? You and your new Scout friends?”

Now I’m getting angry. I get up, and the room spins. Holy shit, that wine must be strong, it usually takes a lot more alcohol for me to feel that light-headed. “What, you’re jealous of me finding new allies you haven’t approved of? You know, they are the ones who helped me out of my cave.”

“Your cave?”

“Yes, Darius, my cave, the cave, where I was, where I hid, all this time, the time I had to spend alone because I realized I killed everyone around me, you know?” My sight becomes blurry and I force myself to breathe slowly. I sit back into the chair and take another sip. The robust taste of the wine should make me snap out of it. “I have no idea what grudge you hold against the Scouts, but those specific people have helped me at least as much as you did at the time. Don’t dismiss them. Don’t dismiss me. I don’t know what proof you need, but I’m telling the truth, it is the truth. You have to believe me.” If he doesn’t believe me, or worse if he – if he’s changed sides, if he’s with them now, I’m lost, we’re all lost. _What have I done?_

I can tell that I’ve started shaking. I hear a shriek, it echoes everywhere under my skull. The weight of the past weeks, the past years, slams on my shoulders. V is struggling, she’s trying to tell me something that I don’t understand. The accident. The murders. Askal. Titans. The police. The lies. The truth. Historia. Levi. I choke back a scream.

“Victoria, are you all right?”

No. No, I’m not all right. I haven’t been all right in a long, long time. And I will never. Ever. Be all right. Again.

The glass breaks under the pressure my hand exerts on it. Red rivulets of wine run down my arm, onto the chair, the white carpet. My fingers open and the glass falls. I watch the wine drip from my fingers, unable to move.

Breathe. Focus. Zackly is talking to me, but I don’t hear the words. Remember. You’re here for something. The mission, the message.

“Can you talk, Victoria? What are you feeling?”

Yes, purpose. I had purpose… “I need your help,” I blurt out, almost shouting. “You have to help me. I –“ I’m losing my grip on reality; the room is spinning, everything is gradually becoming dark. Other V is not shrieking anymore, she’s crying, lost, terrified. I can barely feel my fingers, my feet, my lips. What is happening to me? “We can’t let them get away with it. It’s the truth. Help us. Help me.”

“Stop struggling, Victoria. You need to rest.” No, no, I don’t have time for rest. “You’re safe here. You’re safe with me. You can sleep.”

Sleep? He’s staring at me, quietly. The wine. He put something in the wine. Idiot, idiot Victoria.

I push on the arms of the chair to get up. His eyes widen in surprise. “Damn you,” I yell at him. My legs can’t hold my weight. “You…” I whisper. I fall forward, grab the front of his shirt, my left hand leaving wine stains on the immaculate fabric. “I trusted you.”

“Rest, little flame. We have time.”

The room collapses onto itself; my left shoulder hits the ground.

Other V screams.

\--

Darius Zackly grimaced as he watched Victoria fall to the ground, finally unconscious. He took out a vial from his pocket and looked at it : he’d had to use three times the normal dose. She should have been out not five minutes after the first sip. Carefully stepping over the shards of glass littering the carpet, he walked to the end of the room and rang twice, the signal for his governess. Then, with slow, precise movements, he wiped the wine off Victoria’s hands and arms and hoisted her up to sit her in the chair. She was even lighter than he remembered, he could feel her ribs under the threadbare shirt she had thrown on her back. She was a pitiful sight, her hair in disarray, her face gaunt, marked by Sina knew what, her eyes lined by purple half circles right above her cheekbones, themselves sharper than ever.

After all this time, after he had thought her dead, she had come back to knock at his door when she needed help, because he was the only one she could turn to. Reckless girl, so eager to be a hero, to accomplish great things, regardless for the risks involved, oblivious that her true talent was elswhere, that she could have held so much power if only she had forsaken that dream of hers. She had almost cost him everything, five years ago, when she had rebelled so blatantly. He had considered disposing of her then, but she had disappeared. What was he going to do with her now? He cursed the Scouts for finding her, wherever she had been hiding. As far as he understood, she had found a relative peace, and now she had been brought back into this chaos, bringing even _more_ chaos with her.

There was a knock on the door, and the governess walked in. She was the only staff he trusted with his life. She didn’t even flinch when she saw the young woman in the chair or the wine on the carpet.

“This is Victoria; she will be a guest here for a few days. Have her put in the green bedroom, give her clean clothes, and burn whatever she was wearing. Tomorrow morning, have breakfast ready for her – you can give her whatever she asks for. She will tell the maid to taste everything before she touches it, don’t refuse her. I’ll write a note for when she wakes up. Don’t touch the bag around her neck, and under no circumstances should she leave the house. When she’s out of this room, send someone to tend to the carpet.”

The old woman’s eyes darted from Victoria’s limp shape to his face, then she nodded. A word to someone in the corridor, and a maid arrived. They carried Victoria away, and he was left alone again.

He paced the room, oblivious to the surroundings he knew so well. What she had told him, that truth she believed it… Could it be real? He had that sensation in the pit of his stomach, that feeling that indeed, she was right and that it would explain so much, bring answers to so many questions he’d asked himself over the years.

He walked to the very end of the bookshelf and opened his safe. Under his gold and property deeds were documents, letters, paperwork that he had thought could be useful, some day. Every Population Purge order; military protection for priests of the Cult of Walls; authorizations to conduct experiments on trainees and on the general population; request to form a special secret branch within the Military Police; grants to create special 3DMG equipment for said branch; request for funds to rebuild the church on the Reiss estate, a church with almost no worshippers. All of them displayed his own signature, the King’s seal, and the mark of one or two members of the Council – and one was always there. _Reiss_.

His throat went dry. It made sense. It all made sense. He wasn’t sure exactly how he hadn’t seen it before. No, that was wrong, he had suspected something for some time now, why else would he have kept such papers? He’d just refused to admit how far it went. The constant lethargy of King Fritz, his apparent disinterest for the affairs of his citizens and his tendency, no, his invariable response of turning to his councillors whenever something was asked of him, they weren’t because of his character, it wasn’t nonchalance, he wasn’t a bad king : he wasn’t the king at all. He held no power.

He stumbled backwards into his desk chair, ears ringing. Only one question remained : why? What had prompted the Reiss lineage to lie for more than a century? He had to find out. And to do that, he needed to take over, find a way to grab the power for himself, and he would get his answers. Victoria had said the Survey Corps was involved; it meant that Erwin, that cunning bastard, probably knew and was orchestrating everything behind the scenes. If not, he, Darius Zackly, would devise a plan and get rid of the lying cockroaches himself, once and for all. He had enough firepower after all, even if Nile and the MP decided not to follow, decided to remain loyal to that empty crown, he’d have the Garrison and the Scouts. Without the troops, the King and Council were nothing. _Nothing_. And once they were at his mercy, he would make them reveal all of their dirty secrets, and claim what he had always wanted. Oh, how he had looked forward to this moment!

He looked up at the ceiling. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he would talk to Dot and Erwin, he could invite them to a party, the commanders of two branches formally meeting would be too irregular, but a party, yes, nobody would bat an eye, he could use Victoria as pretext, the return of the Will-O’-Wisp. Yes. Tomorrow, he would take the first step towards absolute power.

He tilted his head back, and laughed.

\--

It’ warm here. Comfortable, peaceful, even. As long as I stay here, eyes firmly closed, I don’t need to move, or worry, or even think. I am enclosed in quiet, quilted peace under and over my head and body. Safe. If I fall here, it can’t hurt me.

I turn under the covers, trying to go back to sleep, when my hand catches into rough leather – my purse, my sister’s letter. _Her sacrifice must not be in vain._

I open my eyes and sit up. I’m in a high, large bed, buried under more pillows and quilts and blankets that I’ve seen in my entire lifetime. The room is wide, tastefully decorated with thick green wallpaper and cream carpet, a fire burning strong. The bedsheets smell of lilac, a light, delicate fragrance that imbues the room without headiness. I look down; these are not my clothes. Unless my memory is really bad and I somehow forgot that I arrived here in an embroidered nightdress. Unlikely. The bandages on my burnt arm have been changed, too.

I fling my legs over the edge of the bed. The sensation of soft carpet under my feet is pleasant as I pad around the room. There’s a pretty dressing gown laid out on a richly upholstered chair; I slip it on. Makes for a nice change compared to the last time I woke up somewhere I didn’t know.

I search my memory for hints as to how I arrived in this room. I was talking with Zackly, I was angry, and… He had put something in the wine, and I was out. I should have known. I can’t bring myself to be angry at him, or even care : I am still alive, and am definitely not in a cell. He hasn’t betrayed his dream, then, and hasn’t betrayed me either. I don’t know what he used, but it must have been something potent, for Other V to not care at all. My eyes fall on a small writing desk, where a note with my name has been placed. I pick up the thick card, embossed with flowers.

“Good morning, Victoria. I hope that you had a restful night. I am truly sorry for the method I used, but I will be very honest with you : you looked like you were going to convulse under my very eyes, and I know you would have refused medication.

Pertaining the matter you exposed to me yesterday, I have taken the liberty to organize a small gathering this evening, at which I will ask you to perform along with a up and coming singer. It will allow me to meet with possible key players in this game without arousing unwanted suspicion. I’m sure that you understand what is expected of you.

I have informed my housekeeper of your impromptu arrival and of tonight’s event, and asked her to arrange for a dressmaker and hairdresser to visit you today. Your arm has been looked at, but should you find yourself in need of a doctor, she will have one summoned at once. Please call to her as much as you need : she knows you are an important guest in this house.

I ask for one thing only : do not leave the house. It isn’t safe out there, for anyone.

I will see you tonight. Meanwhile, joy the few luxuries this day will bring.

Yours truly,

Darius Zackly”

The signature is an illegible flourish of ink. The note falls onto the desk as I examine my surroundings again. I know that I should feel anger, rage even. I’m going to have to dance for a bunch of old geezers again, have to attract their eyes while the important stuff happens in the background. I guess I should be happy that I haven’t been asked to assassinate someone yet. I also know that it’s a necessary evil, that he’s right about the setup, it will be a lot less weird to have everyone at a party. In any case, he’s making a move, and he’s damn fast at it too.

If I’m honest with myself, I also know that there are worst conditions to be kept in. I can have a proper bath, nice clothes, and I’ll be waited on hand and foot, at least for a day. Isn’t that what I said I missed the most? And the attention, the admiration, all those eyes on me. A smile appears on my lips. Come on, Vic, you’ll enjoy it, you know you will.

I can already imagine Levi making fun of me and my decadent tastes. However, I’m sure even he wouldn’t turn down a warm tub of water and food that’s neither a potato nor tastes of mould.

I could disobey and leave, go out to find the general. What purpose would that serve, I’m not sure. Out of principle? Just to show that I am, indeed, devoted to my cause? Would staying with my dirty clothes and messy hair be of any help to Levi and his squad? It would not.

And I’m hungry. I locate the bell pull and make this gesture that I ever thought I’d be able to do again : ring for someone.

Might as well enjoy it while it lasts; this is the life you _like_ , Victoria. Deep down, this is the life you think you deserve. There’s a little bit of shame in that thought, but I push it back. I was able to abandon it without a second thought when I believed it would protect my sister. I’m not a sell-out. Or if I am, my price is high enough to not be ashamed of it.

It barely takes five minutes for a little maid to knock at my door. She comes in with a tray.

“Good morning, miss.”

“Good morning. Your name is?”

“I’m Stella. We didn’t know what you would want for breakfast, so we only sent up tea. May I ask for your preferences, if food is to be served?”

We both stand there, looking at each other. Being asked what I _want_. For _breakfast_. They only sent up _tea_. I might not be a sell-out, but the next incentive to leave this life behind is going to have to be strong. Even the way I think is changing.

“Put the tray down, I’ll take one sugar, please, no milk. Have a sip of it before you leave. I will take three eggs, poached, salt on the side, and fruit. Have a bath drawn so I can take it after eating, and send word to the housekeeper that I’ll want to see the seamstress at the earliest convenience this morning.”

The girl stares at me, a slightly surprised expression on her face. I’m not sure she expected such command from me. Heavens know what gossip has been shared in the kitchen as this specific pot of tea was being brewed… Eventually, she obeys, pours the tea, hesitantly drinks from the cup, and disappears. She wasn’t even surprised at my strange request. _Darius_ … Old man still knows me well.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. The seamstress does protest somewhat when told that she needs to have alterations made to the clothes she presents me with by the end of the day, but one stern look from the housekeeper and she cowers, indeed coming back with everything ready one whole hour earlier than scheduled, even before the hairdresser is done with shaping the mess of curls into a fashionable pile. I find myself amazed at the jewels lent to me for the evening, just as raptured by the beauty of the stones and finely wrought metal as I had been a decade ago, the first time someone presented me with an emerald pendant as a gift.

And here I am now, bejewelled, wrapped in burgundy satin and white lace, waist cinched, bandages replaced by cream elbow-length gloves, perched on heeled slippers. I look at myself in the mirror and fasten a black velvet choker around my neck, adjusting the tear-shaped ruby so it falls right above the notch in my throat. I bite my lips, and decide on a fine line of black kohl on my eyes. I look positively transfigured. I smile, pleased with who I am in this instant. This is what I want the world to see, not a skinny woman in rags crying over her sister. I can overthrow a regime with grace and poise, once the dirty part of the job is done. I’ll just need to take off my gloves; blood stains give an air of vulgarity to the best outfit.

I get up from the dressing table and arrange the heavy skirt. As I walk out to inquire whether I should wait upstairs or not, Zackly comes home. He hands his hat and coat to a servant, sighs deeply and rubs his hand on his forehead.

“How was your day?” I ask, walking down the carpeted stairs.

“Far too long, and not over yet. I don’t think I need to ask about yours. You are stunning.”

“Spare me the flattery.”

“Never! For once, I can make a compliment that isn’t a lie. It’s a luxury you won’t take from me, I’m sure.” I laugh, duly noting the meaning behind his words. “Give me a moment to change into more appropriate clothing, and I will join you. The singer hasn’t arrived yet, I believe. We won’t have time to talk before every one else is here. I trust you to know what to do?”

“I haven’t forgotten how this works,” I reply, forcing myself to smile.

He lowers his eyes. “Serve a drink to Miss Feuerbach while she waits,” he tells the butler. “And keep her glass topped up throughout the evening. She will need it.”

Still smiling, I follow the butler to the ballroom. It has been set up to accommodate about thirty guests, with comfortable chairs lined in neat rows. Golden and red drapes hang from the windows and ceiling, imitating the opera house near the Palace. At the very end of the room, a grand piano has been hoisted onto a dais, and an old musician is already playing scales. I thank the butler for the glass of wine and rustle towards the stage. I walk from one edge to the other, counting steps slowly. The chandeliers cast a warm, eerie light onto the empty chairs. The musician comes to greet me. “What will you be performing, miss?”

“What do you have ready?”

“I can play the Will-O-Wisp, if you’d like. A piano isn’t the best of instruments for it, however.”

“No, indeed. It is not.” I don’t want to dance this. Not anymore. The Will-O-Wisp is gone. “What has the singer picked?”

“Oh, her? Lately, she only sings this love song. A new fad with the young ones.” I grimace. Something I haven’t heard. I don’t feel like improvising, and I don’t do love songs anyway. “I can play ‘I Dream of Flying’, if that’s to your liking?”

I turn my head to look at the old man. He’s grinning. “Was this a suggestion by our esteemed host?” He nods. “He knows me too well. It’s an excellent idea, I’m sure they will like it.”

He bows his head. “You could have them all hop barefoot in a reel, Miss Feuerbach, and you know it.”

I laugh, genuinely for once. “At some point in the past, yes, perhaps, but not anymore. I’ll dance this, then a few classics, if necessary. Thank you.”

As I finish my second glass of wine, I hear the hum of conversations in the hall. The guests are arriving already. I take a deep breath, and push away this pervading thought I’ve had since the dress was fastened on me. It's ridiculous, childish, so frivolous considering the situation; I don't know why I can't get rid of it altogether. I feel silly even entertaining such a wish, but it stays in the background of my mind as I paint a smile on my face and prepare for the show. _I wish Levi could see me tonight._


	20. Fire Lily

After almost an hour, it becomes obvious that the young singer is going to be more than fashionably late. I’ve done my best to play my part as entertainer, dancing not only the piece the pianist had suggested but several others, eventually resorting to taking requests from the audience like I used to do with Ophelia back at the tavern. I managed to tastefully imply that I would not be performing any of my old dances, out of respect for the sanctity of the walls. The murmurs of approval I gleaned from the bejewelled and steadily tipsier members of the public made me want to throw a full magnum of sparkly wine into their faces, but one look from Zackly, and I bit my lips and smiled. And while I kept dancing, laughing, and working the audience, I saw him converse with Pixis, only pausing to refill their glasses, brows getting knitted then relaxed, mouths twitching into joyless smiles, heads nodding gravely.

However, there comes a moment when I just _have_ to stop and take a break. Fortunately for me, I see them shake hands and part ways. I’m not sure what will transpire of this conversation had at the back of a ballroom, but I hope it was worth my while.

I bow deep at the end of the last piece, and reach for a glass of water. I need a moment to compose myself before facing the guests who want to talk to me.

I’ve barely taken a sip that the singer arrives. She all but saunters up the room towards the stage, a crowd of admirers already forming around her. She’s conventionally pretty, with a heart shaped face, long silky blonde hair, bright green eyes, smooth skin, and the juvenile, attractive figure of someone who’s never known hunger but hasn’t had the opportunity to gorge on food either. Despite the bustle on the dress and the soft curls of my hairdo, I look decidedly harsher and made of angles. Didn’t stop the audience from whispering as I made my way into the music room. The singer herself lets out a high pitched squeal when she sees me, rushing down the rows of chairs to shake my hand and make sure that yes, I am really there, the famous Will-O’-Wisp, before proceeding to act like she is going to faint. To the delight of many men here, young and old, who are quick to offer their seat, their drink, their handkerchief to fan her face.

Once “better”, she trots back to the front of the room. On the program tonight, love ballads. My mind wanders as she sings about a young maiden losing her sanity over a lover who ignores her, preferring to mull in his revenge over his family. Or something. Consumed by love and grief, she descends into madness, secretly coveting the quiet happiness of ordinary wives who can enjoy the presence of the man they chose. After one last snub from her betrothed, she goes for a lonely walk by the river and ends up drowned.

The song is beautiful, but I can tell that the singer has never lived the emotions she’s trying to convey. Not that I’d do much better in her shoes; letting myself be burned by such intense love is not something I’d do. I think. I close my eyes instead, trying to focus on the music, to imagine what it would be like, to be so much in love that I’d lose my sanity over it. Who would he be, the one I could die of grief for? I’ve lost Askal already, the only love I ever had, and survived. Would I watch the river with such longing in my eyes, if I gave my heart and spirit away to a man, and he turned me away, cast me aside? The girl falls to her knees, her flame slowly dying, smothered by the indifference, the oblivious current of war and violence taking her lover, her future, her happiness away. There, finally, she has it, the sorrow in her voice, it pierces her soul, my soul. My heart is pounding in my chest as she holds the last note, a spear of despair. It rings in my ears in the eternal instant before the room breaks out into applause and cheers. Something drops on my dress; a tear. I wipe it away hastily, hoping nobody has seen it. The room is filled with a golden haze, my entire body is vibrating, Other V already looking for the danger; why is she reacting to _this_?

I can feel the gloves; I can smell the flowers; I can hear the thunder of applause; I can taste the wine on my tongue. _Breathe_.

We all know what would happen if I fell in love and the man was enough of an idiot to prefer his own private revenge plots over thanking the heavens for my presence. I’d probably throw myself into the river out of frustration, then realize how stupid I’m being, kick the bottom hard, rise out drenched and furious, offering to solve the family feud for him so he can finally focus his attention on me.

I look over my shoulder to see Zackly and Pixis ensconced in intense conversation again. People are already moving from their seats; I get up and clap my hands louder than anyone else, walking towards the singer. She has tears in her eyes, faked or not, impossible to tell. Most of the audience swarms behind me and around us as I help her stand up.

“What a performance. What a voice! You are the most gifted singer I’ve ever had the chance to listen to!” _Sorry, Ophelia_. Others echo my praise. I can see that the two men have slipped away. Their absence must remain unnoticed. “Tell me, why have you picked this specific song?”

“Oh,” she says, blushing, “I heard it some time ago and… I relate to this woman, you know, I too have known the despair of love ignored.”

“Who dared? Tell me his name, so that I can box his ears and tell him how much of a fool he is!” Some of the laughter is not forced. I etch the different faces around me in my memory. “I’m sure that you will find men to replace him, dime a dozen.” People approve, and she laughs too. “Just, make sure they’re worth a bit more than a dime, you know. Make them work for it,” I add with a wink.

“Heartless women”, someone interjects, “you will scorn our pleas while we slave at your feet, giving you flowers, jewels and vows!”

I look him up and down, slowly. “That’s all you have to give?”

Again, laughter echoes all around me, making my head spin. In a blur, I hear the singer excuse herself to the powder room, leaving everyone here nobody else to be interested in but me. My world becomes a whirlwind of bright smiles and potent perfumes, gloved hands fluttering around powdered faces as they go back over different parts of the performances, trying to sound like art experts. I nod and thank them for the compliments, trying to focus on my breathing. I used to be able to handle crowds a lot better, back when I did this every other night, when I didn’t know shit about the world and thought them to be the elite of mankind. Perhaps ignorance is, indeed, bliss. Someone, a noble’s young wife, I think, has the idea of bringing me a new glass of wine and a bite to eat and gradually, the urge to kick all of them in the teeth recedes and I manage to gather enough strength to continue the conversation.

I get up and grab another glass from a footman’s tray, plaster a smile of my face and try to catch up with what they’ve been saying.

“I cannot believe they arrested Erwin,” an older man says.

Wait… what? “You mean commander Smith?” I ask, trying not to sound too eager to know.

“You haven’t heard?” I shake my head. “It seems he was involved in the murder of Reeves, the merchant.” I cannot let the mask slip. I _cannot_.

“Well he’s had it coming,” another gentleman mutters, crumbs from the last canapé he ate falling from his beard as he speaks.

“Reeves? He was a greedy bastard, but he didn’t deserve being murdered in broad daylight and his body exposed in the streets!”

“I meant Smith, are you thick?”

I take a large sip of wine. “Was he being watched?” My voice is surprisingly steady.

“He’s been for a while, didn’t you know?”

I manage a laugh and a shrug. “I haven’t exactly been able to keep up to date with what happens here. I was so sick, I could barely eat enough to stay alive.”

“So we were told,” a tall man replies. Something in his tone makes me shiver. He’s wearing an MP uniform, and I scan his face, trying to remember if I’m supposed to know him, trying to read something in his pale blue eyes. I only get a faint warning from Other V, who has been uncommonly quiet all evening. Mention of a name in the conversation forces my attention back onto the rest of the group.

“I apologize, my mind was elsewhere, what were you saying?”

“Oh, I was underlining that Smith and that captain of his, that Levi, have been in hot waters for a while now. So I’m not surprised that one got arrested and the other is being actively searched for after the massacre he caused in Trost. The entire MP is after him, the greatest manhunt I’ve witnessed in a while.” I have to put the glass down or they’ll notice I’m shaking. Get a grip, Vic. _Now_. I finish the wine and wave for a footman while the bearded man continues. “Him and his squad of young Scouts assaulted police, tried to kidnap some citizens, held patrons of a local tavern hostage, and managed to escape, leaving a trail of dead bodies behind them.”

They all mumble incomprehensible sentences in a unison of ugly heads shaking and disapproving words. I can’t make out who is saying what, what with the blood loudly pounding in my ears.

“Don’t make that face, Victoria, he might be a thug and a murderer, but he will be caught. They said he was hurt in the skirmish. He won’t go very far, the best of the best in the MP are on the case.”

The surge of violence inside me surpasses anything I’ve ever felt, barely more controllable than Other V at her worst. Flowers, wine, candles, piano. _I, for one, don’t intend to die._

“Levi…” Several pairs of eyes turn to me. _Shit_. I’ve said it out loud. I frown. “Isn’t he the one they called humanity’s strongest?”

Someone giggles. “Yes, indeed. But he’s not stronger than the entire military.”

“I’m not so sure,” a woman interjects. She’s the one who brought me a drink, a moment ago. She’s _strikingly_ young. “He kills titans like another would cockroaches.”

Her husband, far older than she is, tuts impatiently. “That’s propaganda, spread by Smith to justify the existence of his branch. If it wasn’t for Zackly gobbling up the lies, they would have been shut down a long time ago.”

“Still,” the wife replies, “his reputation can’t be entirely based on lies.”

“Reputation, reputation!” the bearded man scoffs. “Smith deciding to enrol him in the scouts was a scandal at the time. Sina only knows what this bandit was up to before that. No birth record, no family name… A disgrace for the military, that’s what it is.”

I have to get away from this group of people or the evening will end in a bloodbath. I can’t even hear the warnings in my skull, that’s how strong my rage is.

“And,” an older woman adds, “he fascinates so many young women! I don’t understand why. Now, Erwin Smith, yes, traitor or not, it makes sense. But that runt?”

“The appeal of a bad boy, I suppose,” someone replies.

The old cow tilts her head back, exposing her wrinkled neck, and laughs. The pearls of her necklace jiggle among flaps of saggy skin. I catch myself wondering how much she’d bleed; I really need to calm down.

“I feel sorry for the younger soldiers, however,” the young wife concludes. “They’re being dragged into this, only following orders from their superior officers.”

Turning around to locate a footman, my eyes meet the washed out blue gaze of the tall officer. He’s the only one who hasn’t uttered his opinion on either Erwin or Levi or the Scouts. Both hands behind his back, he’s staring at me, in complete silence. Who is this man?

I’m going to ask when I hear Zackly’s voice behind me. “Victoria, my dear, thank you so much for accepting my invitation tonight. I have something for you.”

I plaster a smile on my face again and push the unease away. I’ll create an opportunity to find out more about this strange man, but later. “Really? For me?”

The general holds out four large, superb flame-like flowers, red and yellow petals twisting high above thick stems.

“Fire lilies!” the young wife whispers, her eyes wide with awe. “They’re so rare!”

“They’re also Miss Feuerbach’s favourite flowers,” Zackly says, his smile widening. However, his eyes remain hard, and I can even detect a hint of worry behind his glasses. Why is he giving me the flowers now? “I grow them in my hot house,” he continues. “I thought they would be an appropriate gift on the night of your return into the world.”

I take the flowers, thankful for the gloves, considering how poisonous they are. “Thank you, really. I never expected such an enthusiastic welcome.”

“We are indeed delighted to have you back,” the pale eyed officer remarks. Again, his voice makes my blood curdle. I feel that I should remember him, but my memory draws a blank. “After your lengthy illness.”

 _Danger_.

“And she’s not entirely recovered yet,” Darius says forcefully. “Victoria, please, don’t overexert yourself. It’s not safe.”

Has he seen how close I was to snapping? Does he somehow know what would happen if I do? Or is my face really that tale telling? “You’re right,” I reply, “and I’m afraid I have to excuse myself.” I lift a hand to quiet the protestations. “Just give me a moment to rest, and I’ll be back to enjoy your _delightful_ company.”

I whirl around at once and march out of the room. I’m feeling sick, and hot; my feet take me to the powder room, in search for a place to cool down. The reflection that meets me in the mirror confirms that I do look dreadful. The little rouge I had put on has been useless in maintaining colour on my cheeks, and the circles under my eyes are deeper than ever. If I smile, I can maintain the illusion of health, but an illness that kept me away for five years isn’t difficult to believe in for people who see me in that state. I look at the flowers in my hands. Beautiful and rare. Slowly, I slip them into my hair, securing them with a couple pins. Then I take off my gloves and splash some cold water onto my face, hoping that it will be enough.

I’m reaching for a face towel when the door opens behind me. Damn, I was sure I had locked it. “A minute, please,” I mumble, cursing under my breath. I barely have time to turn around that I see the blue eyed officer launch himself at me, fist first. Other V screams, but too late; pain sears through my skull, and I fall.

\--

I regain consciousness, still in my evening gown, bound and gagged, sat on an uncomfortable chair in a dark room. I am _done_ with waking up in strange places. There’s not a noise to be heard except a fire crackling and someone else breathing, a few feet from me. I can’t tell if there are windows, what time it is, or how long I’ve been out. I can smell whisky, wax and cold tobacco, and it’s neither cold nor damp. I’m not in a cell, then, rather in someone’s house. Basement, perhaps, or hidden room, all the big mansions have one of those for their owners to “work” out of the staff’s inquisitive eyes. Not that it’s any better, if I can’t get out of here, it doesn’t matter if it’s a dungeon or a secret library, I’m still a prisoner. V is quiet. She shouldn’t be. I roll my wrists behind my back, testing the tightness of the rope cutting into my skin. Hm. It’s going to be tough getting out of this.

Gradually, elements of the evening come back to me. The strange man assaulted me while I was freshening up. I had been speaking with guests about –

Erwin arrested. The kids. _Levi._

They’re in danger.

I have to get out of here, find out what the plan is and help. Despite the sense of urgency, I feel no fear or anguish at my situation; I'll survive. It's what I do. However, if I want to be at least a little bit useful, I can't stay here.

I lift my head to try and catch more details. “Ah,” a voice says. “You’re awake.”

I shiver. It’s the man from the party, the tall one, the officer I felt afraid of for no reason. Turns out there was a reason. _V, I know I’ve asked you to leave me alone, but really, I could use your help now,_ I tell her. Why is she not waking up?

He lights a couple lamps. I am indeed in a small office, it seems. I twist in the chair. “Don’t struggle,” the man says. “I’ll free you, but you have to promise me to play nice.” I nod frantically. I’ll promise anything to have use of my hands. He draws closer and unties the rope, then the gag. “You know better than trying to attack me.”

“Of course I do. I’m not an idiot.” He laughs. With Other V gone, I don’t have much of a choice anyway. I can’t take him on my own, I’m too exhausted, and what good would it do? More important than anything, I have to find out what the fuck I’m doing here. “Who are you?”

“You really don’t remember me?” I shake my head. “A pity.” He walks to a drinks cabinet and pours two glasses, then offers me one. Whisky.

“No, thank you.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He sits in an armchair and whirls the alcohol in the glass, still staring at me.

“Tell me your name, it might help me remember.”

This time, he grins. “You never knew my name.”

I let out a frustrated groan. “What do you want? I’m sure you didn’t kidnap me to just stare while you drink. If there’s something I can do for you, tell me, and I’ll see if I’m amenable.” _Just wait until I’m sure you’re not armed, pig._

His grin widens. “Ten years. Ten years, half of which out of everyone’s sight, and you haven’t changed a bit.”

 _Ten years?_ Does that means… “Do you know me from Training?” He nods. “Why don’t I remember?”

“It seems there’s a lot that you don’t remember.” This conversation is getting on my nerves. Perhaps I _could_ try hitting him. “I never thought you would switch to Erwin’s side, though.”

I take a deep breath and lean back in the chair. Might as well play along. “Sides… I never knew there were sides until –“

“Until Zackly got to you. Yes, I was told about this. I never should have left you out of my sight in the first place. We’ll use her for a couple missions, they said. She can’t be expected to only dance for the rest of her life.”

“Oh for Sina’s sake, who the fuck are you?”

He chuckles. “I’m the one who made you the weapon you are.”

A droplet of cold sweat rolls down my back and I swallow. “You mean… the accident?”

His hand closes into a fist. “No, not the accident, before that!” He gets up and towers over me. I look at him, eyes wide. I have no idea what this man is talking about, what he wants, and I still can’t bring myself to feel fear or anger or anything. I’m numb. Completely and utterly cut out from my senses, and from Other V. “You really don’t remember a single thing?” I shake my head, and he scans my face. “I would have thought… five years later, and without the drugs, you would have _some_ memories…”

“What drugs?” I manage to whisper.

“The opium we gave you to keep you under control.” He straightens up. “I had hope, but turns out it was foolish of me.” He points at a table. “There’s a file here. We’re going to read it together. I’m sure you will be glad for the information.”

My eyes settle on a black leather cover, bound by a thick string. “A file?” My heartrate spikes. “My file?” Am I finally going to discover more about what happened to me?

“Yes, your file. I kept a record of the entire experiment, of course, but this is about your case. First, a question. Have you finally learnt to control yourself?”

Slowly, I realize what he’s asking, what he’s saying. He knows about V. I shake my head. No, I haven’t learnt to control anything. _Made you the weapon you are_. I get up and stagger to the table, and open the file.

The first page is blank, barred by a stamp that says “confidential” in red, capitalized lettering. At the bottom, smaller : “Not to be disclosed to the public.” I flip this page over.

_Trainee corps – experiment number 75 – Pain and fear conditioning – started in –_

The world grows cold. The year written there is indeed the one of my ‘accident’.

_Subject n° 58 – sex : F – age : 16 – Height : 163 cm – Weight : 48 kg – Initials : VF – Orphan._

Holy shit.

_Subject 58 was selected for the P &F Conditioning Experiment on the following criteria : superior physical abilities (body mobility); high tolerance to pain; fast healing rate; endurance.  
Note : subject exhibits frequent defiant behaviour._

Fuck you.

_The theory behind the Pain and Fear Conditioning Experiment : we suppose that when exposed to extreme conditions, the body and mind will, based on pre-existing capabilities, develop adaptive reflexes that can be channelled into uncommon fighting aptitudes._

_The Experiment will expose selected subjects to situations of life threatening danger, physical and mental distress._

Lower, in a differently coloured ink : _Experiment discontinued due to mortality rate (99%)_

I’m suddenly aware of the presence of the man right behind me as he reads over my shoulder; I hear the crackling noise he makes when he breathes, an unnatural, sickly sound. I lift my head. He’s the one who did this.

“If you remember anything while you read, please tell me. Oh, I’m so happy, so happy to have you back, Victoria. My creation, imperfect to everyone but me.”

And he’s proud of it.

“They all tried to use you, the MP, Zackly, Erwin… but now you’re back where you belong.”

And he thinks he owns me.

I barely register what happens next. The force of the blow arises from the depth of my guts; my arm draws back, my fist closes, and I send it crashing into the man’s nose. A second punch knocks him out before he has time to realize what has happened. I watch him fall to the ground, devoid of any emotion. Anger, sadness, fear… I feel absolutely nothing. I hear absolutely nothing.

Good. It’s about fucking time I was free from fear.

I drag him to the chair and use the same ropes and gag that he had me bound with. Then I return to the file, pull another chair, and read.

I flip through pages and pages of notes on the different “situations” me and my unfortunate companions were placed in. The observations are detailed, thorough, cleanly scientific. Abandoned in the snow for five days, unarmed. Had to decide which comrade to save from a fire. Left stranded on top of the wall with only one harness…

My stomach churns : to each and every one of these, I got outstanding results. I survived, consistently, where others died or were irremediably injured. What did I do to these people to still be alive today? Who did I leave in the cold, who did I cut into pieces, who did I throw into a fire to save my skin?

And what the fuck even possessed them to invent such torture in the first place? What did the _other_ experiments look like? Wasn’t normal Training deadly enough? I take a deep breath and turn the pages. I _have_ to know.

I get to the part where I was almost declared dead. Had been going without enough food for weeks, managed to convince others that no, we could not just chop off one of our feet and eat it, or so it says in the file, and I eventually got injured and the wound just would _not_ stop bleeding. And yet…

Doctors were unable to explain how I came back to myself, it says.

_58 displayed all the signs of being close to death : faint pulse, no reflex response after five days of bleeding out. Yet, the subject moved and came to herself as a nurse was going to call the death. She said a word that has not been recorded, and resumed breathing._

The next entries describe my lengthy recovery, being prodded and examined. Again, I have to rely on the records, having kept no memory of this part of my life. It goes on and on, until :

_It was decided not to expose 58 to post experiment testing as to not exhaust the body. Subject was sent back to training camp to choose what branch she will join. She still expresses wish to become a Scout._

And then, marked three weeks later :

_An urgent message was sent concerning 58. It appears that she entered a semiconscious state during a benign fight with another cadet and assaulted and maimed several others. Unable to restrain her, officers drew a wooden spike through her body to pin her to a wall. Experts have been sent to examine her._

_58 is quarantined as she recovers from the injury. She displays no recollection of the event, or of her conditioning. Testing debated._

Another two weeks passed.

_After testing, it seems that P &F Conditioning has had several effects on 58, listed as follows :_

_\- Partial memory loss_

_\- Extreme awareness to surroundings_

_\- Increased emotional responses (notably : anger and fear)_

_\- Smaller appetite_

_\- Resistance to alcohol and medicine_

_The most unexpected being : exposure to life threatening danger will almost inevitably (8 occurrences out of 9 tested situations) trigger a state in which the subject exhibits extreme strength and rapidity but no control of her actions and decisions. Enemies and allies alike were targeted after she entered this “trance”._

_At first, testers had to physically restrain the subject until she collapsed._

_At a later time, forced ingestion of laudanum (tincture of opium) was used to induce a calmer state, and sometimes sleep. Subsequent tests showed that laudanum, taken before the triggers, delayed or prevented the trances, depending on dosage._

_It has not been discovered whether it is possible for the subject to remain in control of the exceptional abilities when entering the trance._

_Combat Value : LOW._

My hands are now shaking almost uncontrollably. I keep breathing to avoid throwing up all over the file. I have reached the last page, I can do this.

_Due to her physical limitations, the potential danger she presents to other soldiers and the defiance for authority she exhibits, subject 58 has been discharged from the forces._

That at least, is something I remember. My eyes travel up to the previous paragraph.

_Combat Value : LOW._

I don’t know how long I stare at this word. I can hear a clock ticking, the heavy beats of my heart synchronizing with the seconds slowly passing.

I look at the papers again. Value, low.

I close the file, and look at the man, still unconscious. The file has given me answers, but one question remain : why. Why did he imagine this experiment, why did he target trainees, why did I survive? Why was I then recruited by the MP?

_Why did he do this to me?_

I wasn’t born this way; I’m not a monster, I was _made_ into a monster.

Without the experiment, Other V wouldn’t exist. I would have become a Scout, died or survived, like any other cadet, lost a limb perhaps, but I wouldn’t have attacked anyone on a roof, they wouldn’t have had to skewer me with a spike and damage my arm. Working for the MP, killing dissidents, meeting Zackly, refusing to obey orders, slaughtering villagers in the cave : none of it would have happened.

Five years. Five years under the ground, avoiding people, living in the shadows except for a couple dances in a tavern for petty cash. Five years believing I was a devil. The years of pain, my shattered dreams, my lost youth.

He did this.

Without him, I would have been a soldier. I might not have survived, but I would have fulfilled my destiny, or at least done my duty, and Askal would never have joined, she would – _Askal would still be alive and well_.

I’m probably not the only one either – how many have died from the barbary of such experiments? How dare they use trainees this way, young people ready to devote their lives? I have to make them pay, all of them. Instinctively, my hand reaches for the flowers in my hair. And he will be the first. I pull the lilies out, cover my now gloveless fingers with my handkerchief and pluck the petals, one by one, dropping them into the glass of whisky. With a letter opener, I stir the now limp pieces of flower into the drink, pressing them against the glass to extrude all of the poison. I’ve used this twice before, and it wasn’t pretty. But by the time it does anything to this wretch, I’ll be far from here.

While the petals steep in the alcohol, I stoke the fire and get it roaring, until the warmth becomes uncomfortable.

I fish the petals out, throw them into the fireplace, tug the gag off my captor’s mouth and make him smell the drink. His eyelids flutter. Gently, I lift his chin. “Wake up.” His eyes shoot open.

“Victoria!” He rattles the chair. “What’s the meaning of this?”

I look him up and down. Pathetic. “I’ve read the file. I have questions.”

“Everything’s in there,” he mutters, panicked.

“No, far from it.” I pretend to take a sip from the glass. “I’m going to give you ten minutes to gather your wits again, then you will speak.”

He struggles for another minute, then his shoulders slump and he sighs, apparently defeated. “Can I at least have something to drink?” he asks, eyeing the full glass.

I smile at him. “Depends on your answers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone leaving kudos on my story!


	21. Chrysalis

Victoria rested the small of her back on the desk, her eyes leisurely sweeping the room. She focused on one of the bookshelves, and he knew that she had located the hidden door. Her gaze hopped from the shelf to the old grandfather clock ticking in a corner, then to the glass of whisky, then to his face.

He knew he didn’t have a choice, he could either answer her of his own free will or she would find a way to make him speak. He had an incredibly low threshold to pain and despite operating on people for the most part of his life, he couldn’t bear the sight of his own blood. “What do you want to know?” he asked her.

She tilted her head to the side, a half-smile on her lips. “Everything.”

He took a deep breath. “Then let me tell you the story of a doctor and a young trainee. It’s not a nice story : it’s about arrogance, ambition, and failure.” Her lips twitched at this word, but she gestured him to continue. He straightened in his seat, getting as comfortable as his tied hands would let him. “I was trained under a very ordinary physician, to become an ordinary doctor myself. I was facing a life of treating sores and boils, head colds, the occasional case of syphilis and infected knife cut, but nothing exciting or that could change the course of medicine. I wanted more; I wanted to make great discoveries for the advancement of humanity, wanted my name to be known by everybody within the walls, wanted to be respected and revered. I know you can relate,” he added with a smile. Victoria didn’t react.

He wondered if he could really tell her the truth, how ugly they both had been. He had accepted he wasn’t a good person a long time ago, but what would it do to her? He took a good look at her face, marked by all that she had been through, her eyes unforgiving and hard. She seemed ready; she had asked for everything, after all.

“I had always been fascinated by the way people would push through pain, finding incredible physical and mental resources when it was necessary : I had seen a mother lift an entire cart to get to her child that had been trapped underneath, despite having a broken arm herself. I wanted to know how this hidden power could be harnessed and put to use, to make better, stronger humans. With enough persistence and ass kissing, I eventually found myself the physician for prominent members of society while I conducted research on orphan children I picked up here and there.” Victoria’s eyes narrowed and he felt a jolt of fear course through his veins. So that’s where she draws the line, he told himself. She’s in for a surprise…

“But the specimens were sickly, weak, and died on me before I could even get results. I needed better samples of humans to begin with. I thought it through; where could I get people in peak physical health, young enough to be adaptive, but already mostly grown? The Training Corps, of course.” He clicked his tongue; it was truly too hot in this room. A glance at the fire, then at the glass, and Victoria’s smile reappeared. She brought the glass to his lips, tipping it gently so he could take a sip. She didn’t seem to like what he was saying, but this showed that she wanted him to keep speaking. So he continued.

“It took some persuasion, but I managed to present my research projects to the highest spheres of the military. They listened, hemmed and hawed, dismissed me, called me back. I was patient, I answered their questions time and again, and one fine morning, someone asked if they would be able to use the improved trainees as elite soldiers. I said yes; I had no idea what the results of the experiments would be, if it would even work, but I promised that any cadet coming out of my special training would be bound by a lifelong contract to the MP. They wanted extra strong soldiers, I wanted to make extra strong humans. It felt like an excellent deal. We shook hands, I got funding, equipment, two nurses, and an official authorization to scour the training camps to find a hundred young people fit for my experiments. We called it Pain and Fear Conditioning, as you’ve read in the file.”

He paused, trying to read Victoria’s expression. But her features remained perfectly still; perhaps a couple lines had appeared at the corner of her lips, indicating a slight tension, but she was still in control of her emotions. “So you were trying to make super soldiers,” she said, her voice soft. “What was it for? Fighting Titans?”

He shook his head; was she really that naïve? “No; population control.” Victoria crossed her arms. “A hundred years behind walls, despite everyone’s best efforts, and you’re bound to get revolts against the ones holding power. There were many cases of sedition, calls to arms, local rebellions. If the people from Maria and Rose seceded from the Capital, every citizen of Sina would starve. And there was the problem of the Underground, a simmering pot of crime, trafficking and sin. Young recruits joining the MP got corrupted in no time when they learnt that taking bribes was a lot more lucrative than meekly accepting their pay and doing their duty, and most noble families had resorted to hiring private security officers to guarantee their safety in case of an all-out insurrection. So yes, indeed, the prospect of above-average soldiers at their beck and call had a certain appeal.”

“How did they know we would have obeyed them?”

He averted his eyes. “I was told to add mental conditioning, to make everyone compliant. The technique was old but it had been known to work, and with the rest of the training, spirits were already going to be broken, it should have been easy.”

“Should?”

“I never got to that part of the training. Everyone died before I could see if it worked.”

Victoria sighed and brought the glass to his lips again. He drank, savouring the burn of the alcohol as it ran down his throat. “Thank you,” he whispered. She smiled again, her lips curling up to uncover her teeth.

“How did I come to be part of the experiment?” she asked.

“I was getting to it. My nurses and I went about talking to Trainees; instructors didn’t really like our presence, but one glance at the official seal on our paperwork and they shut their mouths even though they were silently seething as we took from them their best elements.”

“Why did you pick me?”

It was his turn to smile. “Oh, Victoria, we didn’t _pick_ you; you volunteered.”

He waited, keeping an eye out for her reaction. Red patches were gaining on her pale cheeks, but it could very well have been the warmth of the room. But her jaw seemed more clenched, the tendons in her neck tense. He relished guessing how hard it was for her to contain her anger; he remembered how impulsive she was, it must have been a struggle to not lash out at him. She had learnt patience, after all.

“Every subject was a volunteer; the money offered was difficult to refuse.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I did this for money?”

He shook his head; despite being tied to a chair and so thirsty he was getting nauseous, he was enjoying taking Victoria down a peg or two. “Oh no; you took it, of course. But that’s not why you came to knock on my door, that day.” His smile widened. “I remember it like it happened yesterday.” On the first evening, a knock, and he had opened the door on this wisp of a girl, holding her head like she was the heiress of the richest family in Mitras. Golden brown hair tied loosely on top of her head, golden brown eyes that seemed black in the evening’s shadows, a firm handshake, and she had walked in and taken a seat. “I’m Victoria Feuerbach, you said, and I want to become a special trainee.” He chuckled. “You proceeded to list your accomplishments. I knew all about them already, I had detailed files on everyone; I also knew you regularly got into trouble for questioning orders.”

“I never questioned orders, I merely asked instructors to explain the reason behind them in sensible terms.”

He chuckled. “That’s not exactly a compatible attitude with the military, dear. But it didn’t matter to me. You wanted to try this, you would have stopped at nothing to become a better, stronger version of yourself. You only left after I had written your name down for preliminary testing. I tried to warn you, to talk you out of it; you were strong, but very small and your file mentioned malnutrition, I was afraid you wouldn’t make it very far. But there was no backing down for you, even after I explained you could die, or perhaps be permanently transformed by the conditioning. You looked at me, with the arrogance only a fifteen year old can have, and you said ‘Doctor, I’d sell my soul to never be weak again. Now make me powerful.’ So I did.”

Victoria straightened up and walked towards the hearth. He watched her wrap her arms around her body, and stare into the fire, silent. The flames reflected into the ruby at her throat and her shadow danced on the carpeted floor. He saw her chest rise and fall with the deep breaths she took, and he waited. Eventually, she spoke again. “Except it didn’t turn out like we had expected.”

 _She said we_. “No, it didn’t. I had high hopes, at first. You survived every single step, even the worst ones. Everything is in the file,” he added, and she gave a quick nod. “I pushed you further and further, and you came out, where others died, or were discharged and died of complications. Until it got too much even for you. We got greedy, you were too weak, and bled out. Almost everyone else was already gone at this point, and I knew that we had reached the end. Whether you made it or not, my conditioning had failed. I was wrong : when exposed to extreme situations, people don’t become stronger, they die. It’s that simple. But you did not die.”

“Why didn’t I die?” she whispered, her gaze still fastened on the flames.

“To this day, I don’t have a valid, scientific explanation for it. By all the rules of life, you should be six feet under the ground today. My personal take is that you were too proud, too stubborn to accept that you had _failed_. Being that close to death awakened something within you, a will to survive that surpasses every motivation you might have. I never wrote down the word you said when you seemingly came back from the dead, but I remember it. It was barely over a whisper, could have been mistaken for the last gasp. You said _rise_.”

Victoria lowered her eyes and remained perfectly still for a few seconds. He waited; he had all the time in the world. Soon she would admit that she had been wrong to hate him, perhaps she was even going to ask for forgiveness, perhaps she would beg him to help her become this hero she wanted to be. Then her eyes shot up and she turned to look at him. She was smiling. _She was smiling?_

“What happened next?” she asked, drawing closer again, every step loaded with menace. He shivered.

“You were too weak to continue with the training, so I stopped the entire experiment. Officials didn’t like it, and I’m still paying the price for this failure. They agreed that since you weren’t stronger, you could be sent back to whatever branch you wanted to enrol in; they had no use for you. You joined the Scouts, then the “incident” on the roof happened, and the MP took a new interest in you. I begged them to let me try and figure out what had happened, what the trances were, but they didn’t listen. Laudanum is expensive, I told them, and her body will adapt and soon it won’t be enough to contain her, I said. They dismissed my concerns and explained that the day the drugs didn’t have an effect anymore, they’d let you loose at an appropriate time to fulfil your purpose : be a deadly weapon. What if she gets killed, I asked, and they shrugged; she’ll get killed. I petitioned, I filed claims, I exposed theories, but none of it mattered. Officially, you weren’t even part of the military anymore, all trace of the experiment had been erased except the records I had kept, and I had virtually no support. So I had to leave you behind. Then Zackly found you, your rebellious flame got reignited and you disappeared.”

He paused and cleared his throat. He was sweating profusely now, his hands getting clammy and he had terrible cramping in his stomach. Victoria made him drink the last of the whisky, but it didn’t help much. She sat on the desk. “How can I reverse what you did to me?” She was far too calm and composed; a nagging feeling of dread started growing in his chest.

He blinked at her. “Reverse? Why would you want that? Your survival instinct is so powerful that it brought you back from the dead.”

“The trances, do you want to know how they manifest?” He nodded. Of course he wanted to know! “All the time, I have a voice inside my head, telling me about every possible danger around me. I’ve spent so much time hearing it, I gave it a name. I call her Other V. Other V doesn’t have a very accurate way of measuring the severity of danger. I have no memory of the first trances, I only remember that she appeared five years ago and made me slaughter half a village. I probably would have died without her, I’ll admit that. Since then, she’s here, she tells me to run, or fight, or kill. I don’t listen; but when she does take over, I have no control whatsoever on what she makes me do. And that’s a problem.”

He couldn't believe his ears. She had manifested another self who protected her when she was in danger. The human body was truly a wonderful machine, even if she didn't control it. “That’s why you were given laudanum.”

“But you said it would stop working, after a while. How can I get it under control? It’s a simple question.”

He had to take this opportunity, it was now or never. “Let me help you. We can work together, and find a way. You can become the hero you always wanted to be.”

She tilted her head back and laughed. “And you’d get the glory, get to sweep under the rug the fact that killed almost a hundred trainees with your barbaric trials? I don’t think so. If you don’t know how I can remove this or control it, you are of no use to me.” Victoria got up and gathered the papers that had slipped from the file, piling them into a neat pile.

“What are you doing?”

She glanced at the clock. “I’m going back to Zackly’s house.”

He panicked. “Why?”

“None of your business.”

He wiggled on the chair, trying to free himself from the ties. No, she wasn’t going to leave, it was impossible, not when he had been so close! He had to complete his work, prove to the world that he was right. “Don’t trust him, Victoria. He knew, he read the file, he always knew and never told you about anything. He used you, and he’s still using you.”

She hoisted the file under her arm and shrugged. “That’s all right, I’m using him too.”

Why did she look so detached, so careless? Had she not listened? Did she not understand that her dream was within reach, if only she let him work with her? “Victoria, please! At least give me a chance to help, give yourself a chance to become a being of exceptional power, to be this heroine you always wanted to be!”

She sighed and walked closer again. “I’m not a heroine, and I’m not a being of exceptional power. I know because I _have met_ beings of exceptional power, and I can’t compare. I’m fine with it. I’ll always be an uncontrolled devil, a faulty weapon born from a failed experiment. That’s who I am,” she concluded with a smile. She looked at him, and the shadow in her eyes awakened a primal terror hidden deep in his heart. In a cold, calm tone, she kept speaking. “You’re going to feel like you’re dying, in a few hours. That’s because of all the poisoned whisky you insisted on drinking.” His mouth opened and his eyes flew from her face to the empty glass. _Poison_? “It’s colchicine; you might survive it, if your body is resilient enough. Do you think you would have survived your experiment, at the time? If the answer’s yes, then I hope you have a long rest of your life. If not, well… I’d say I’m sorry, but that would be a lie.” He watched her eyes travel all over him, clear disgust on her haughty features. He was going to die. He tried to get on his feet and fell face first onto the carpet, the chair weighing a ton on his tired back. “Thank you,” he heard Victoria say from what seemed to be miles above his head. “Thank you for telling me I asked to be turned into a monster. It makes everything so much easier.”

He could only see her slippers now, and they were taking her to the door. “Wait!” Bits of wool from the carpet stuck to his lips. “You don’t even know my name.”

She stopped. “Why would I want to know?”

\---

I don’t know how I manage to find my way out of the house and back to the garden, right outside Zackly’s study. Once glance inside tells me that he’s fallen asleep at his desk. I freeze, a few steps away from the terrace; a sharp pain pierces my chest, and I collapse into the dirt, the file falling open, sheets of paper mingling with the leaves from the bushes. I can’t control the powerful tremors agitating my body, and I hurl the contents of my stomach on the ground.

The garden disappears; the sound of the wind in the trees morphs into howls of pain, voices calling my name, begging for mercy, a concert of cries rising from the ground to drown me into their tears. I realize the loudest are coming from me, deep, earth shattering waves of grief, regret, and anger. And among the voices, I recognize hers. Other V. She has my face, when I was fifteen. I look at her, and she stares back, her eyes hard and sullen, her face drawn. What do you want? I ask her, but she doesn’t answer, I don't think she understands. Fragments of the past come back to me from the depths of my shattered memory. Pain, screams, making choices, having to decide who to let go, who to use. I wanted this. I wanted to be transformed, I begged to be turned into a violent weapon. Before my eyes appear a forest, a clearing, and a burning tree. I jump from the tree and fall, while other silhouettes go up in flames, screaming. As I scream too, V starts walking to me, she’s surrounded by the fire, her frame black against the blazing tree behind her. She looks down and I see myself through her eyes, a small, pathetic, quivering mess. I feel her anger, her grief, and her indomitable will to live. And I understand: as long as I survive, she survives; she cannot let me give up, cannot let me get killed. It doesn’t matter what I think my duty is, the sacrifices I’m willing to make – she will not let me die.

I look up towards her and smile. Let me protect you, I tell her.

She stops, her eyes wide. The fire burns higher. She holds out her hand and mouths a word.

 _Rise_.

I get up from the ground and the screams, the fire, V, everything disappears and is replaced by the garden. I breathe deeply, feeling the sharp air fill my chest. I am alive. The devil in me is the reason I am still smelling the earth, hearing the wind, seeing the moon in the sky. V gave me all those second chances; and I’m done wasting them. It's time to take the reins back. 

I pick up the scattered pieces of the file and march into the study. I watch the sleeping general for a second, then slam the file onto the desk.

He wakes up, startled, and his glasses slip from his face onto his lap. It takes him a minute to gather his wits and recognize me, but he sighs in relief when he does.

“Where were you?”

“You knew,” I tell him, ignoring his question. I’m not even feeling angry.

He frowns. “Knew what?”

I jut my chin towards the file. He opens it, lets his eyes scour the first pages, and his shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, Victoria. There’s nothing I can do to atone for this. I should have said something.” I nod. “How can you forgive me?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure that’s a forgivable offence, you know. But you can start by telling me what the plan is, what part I’ll have in it, and hand over your supply of laudanum.”

His eyes widen. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to join us.”

“I don’t care what you think.”

“I am still the one in charge here, and if I give you an order I expect you to comply!”

V stirs. _No, he’s not dangerous_ , I tell her. “I only obey orders from people I trust. The list is incredibly short, and you won’t be surprised to learn that you don’t make the cut, Darius. So no, if you give me an order, I will not comply. Do you really think antagonizing me _now_ is a good idea? You don’t have to answer right away, have a good think about it.”

I wait, trying to determine what I’m feeling. Anger, frustration; fear. Expectation, too. I’m part of something so much bigger than myself.

Zackly considers me in silence, then lets a smile appear on his face. He closes the file, walks to a cabinet and takes two vials, that he hands to me. “You win, Victoria. I won’t try to control you anymore. Listen carefully, and decide what part you want to play in this.”

\---

A few hours later, I’m standing in a room in the palace with Zackly and a handful of soldiers, all armed to the teeth. I myself am carrying a rifle, and dressed in a uniform, anyone would believe that I’m one of them. Fists clenched, I wait for the events to unfold. If everything goes according to Erwin’s plan, it will very soon be over.

Before being arrested, Erwin had had enough time to expose his theory and his plan to Pixis, who had then turned to Zackly during the little show at his house. The plan rests on a carefully prepared lie : while the commander of the Scouts is being interrogated by the fake King and his Council, someone will interrupt the hearing to announce that Wall Rose has been breached and Titans are invading the land. Erwin’s bet is that the council will order the gates of Sina to be sealed, leaving the fleeing population to face a certain death. If they do make this decision, it will be proof that despite their claims they never had the best interests of the population at heart. As far as I understood, it was the only way Pixis accepted to take the council down : even if he had enough evidence that they had concealed many truths, a part of him believed that perhaps their lies had only been for the benefit of humanity and not motivated by self preservation.

Nobody asked me, but I wouldn’t have found it difficult to answer this part of the riddle…

The messenger has just now been dispatched by the general to burst inside the throne room where the hearing is taking place and deliver the fake report. There is nothing else left to do but wait, and V isn’t liking it very much. I allow her to get all worked up : if the plan fails, I might have to let her loose so I can escape alive. That’s her purpose, after all, keeping me alive. I push away the thought of the man I left dying on the carpet, last night. I’ll have time to find out more about him later, once the lives of everyone that matters to me aren’t under threat anymore.

_I, for one, don’t intend to die._

I breathe deeply to slow my heartbeat down. Thinking of Levi isn’t going to do a lot of good either…

I look around at the strained faces surrounding me. A titan could materialize in the room that none of us would know what to do with it. I strain my ears to hear something, anything, a voice, a door banging open…

There, footsteps! Someone’s running. As one man, we all rise. The girl flings the door open; she’s out of breath, but she’s smiling. “It’s started. Come now!”

The roar of triumph in my chest washes away any other emotion I have felt over the past days.

We did it.

We’ve made a change.

_We were on the right side, this time, V._

The rest of events go by in a blur; the anticipation of the moment was so high that I barely register what goes on around me now that the consequences of our collective efforts start unfolding and we are about to reap the rewards. We all get inside the throne room and line up behind the general, rifles on our shoulders. I could take out the entirety of the government, if I wanted to. Exhilarated, I hear Pixis and Zackly explaining that yes, indeed, this is a coup, and that they will be taking over now, thank you very much. Erwin looks like he’s been through a special interrogation, but he’s otherwise unharmed. I haven’t seen him in years, and even then it was only from afar except once, but the air of obsessive determination on his face has wavered, I can tell. The man needs a strong drink and to sleep for a week, neither of which he’ll get anytime soon, considering that yes, we have won that part, but the cost might be higher than anyone here bargained for…

It’s all over in less than half an hour, in barely enough time to teach the masses how to say coup d’état. Dispatches are sent to journalists, so that they spread the word. Hopefully, the rest of the Corps will be located soon and they’ll be able to come back, or at least know that this particular threat on their lives no longer exists. Still an anonymous soldier, I join the ones escorting Zackly’s carriage through the city.

When we arrive at his house, I hop off the horse and follow him into the garden. “What do we do now,” I ask, pointing the rifle at the ground.

“I have to interrogate the scum we just arrested,” he replies with a grin. I don’t ask for details; I’ve seen the blueprints on his desk. “You,” he adds, “can do what you want.”

I frown. “You were sincere, last night?”

He nods. “No more trying to manipulate you. I swear. You can come with me, reveal yourself as having participated in the coup, and help me with the interrogations.” I make a face. “It’s time you took control over your own destiny, Victoria. You now know everything about your past, the decisions you make from now on are yours only. It also means that you have to face the consequences of said decisions.”

I give a faint smile. “I’ve been living with the consequences of my own arrogance for a decade now. I’m getting good at it.”

“Then you don’t need my guidance anymore.” I snort. “What do you want, Victoria? Ask, and it will be yours.”

I look up; the sun is starting to set. “Where’s _he_ going?” I ask, pointing at the carriage taking Erwin away.

Zackly sighs, looks away for a few seconds, then focuses on me again. “Reiss estate. They leave tonight with reinforcements. That’s where they think Historia and Eren were taken.” Again, he sighs. “Need a map?”

“I’ll find it. Before tonight.” I reach into a pocket of my jacket, pull out one of the vials he gave me a few hours ago, and take a tiny sip.

“So that’s what you decide to do? I could give you whatever you want, you could ask for anything, with how much I owe you, and you go headfirst towards probable death, to help those brave idiots?”

“They’re the brave idiots who got me to join this fight in the first place,” I reply, jumping back onto the horse. “I’m keeping the rifle and uniform for now. Thank you.”

I ride away hastily towards the gate. V stirs and protests. Under my breath, I tell her to shut up. I made promises; I promised Historia to be less disappointing. I promised Levi to do my best. He saved my life, the least I can do is try to repay him.

_Don’t do anything stupid, arsonist._

Too late.


	22. Sins of our Fathers

I was always notoriously bad at directions, but this is ridiculous. How hard is it to find a damn chapel in the middle of Nowhere, Isolated Countryside District? I should have put my ego aside and accepted the map. I didn’t want to waste time, now I’m running in circles, even my horse is getting frustrated with the search, and I’m starting to think the sun is setting earlier than usual just to spite me.

Okay, what did that old farmer say? _Through the woods, then north for a bit, and you can’t miss it, there’s a farm, a church, an oak thicket, can’t miss it._ Woods are behind me, and I’m reasonably sure I can tell where North is, considering that the sunset is over there. I probably haven’t gone far enough yet. I click my tongue to get the horse going; I’ve been riding most of the afternoon and barely allowed it to stop for a bit of grazing as I was trying to figure out where the fuck I was, and he protests by refusing to go faster than a lazy trot. Other V is growling inside, unhappy with this whole stupid idea. I know, V. I know. But you’re used to it now, aren’t you? We can do this together.

Fortunately for everyone involved, I get to a small estate less than an hour later, as a round, bright moon rises above an oak thicket. I can see a building that can be called a church next to the trees. It’s quiet here, too quiet : no night birds, no creatures chittering under the oaks… Other V is going haywire inside my head, trying to detect signs of danger that are not there. My horse walks to the thicket with a soft whinny; shortly afterwards, another horse responds in kind. Hidden in the trees, I find several of them tied to thick trunks, and a carriage. I guess that’s it; they’re probably already inside the building, even if I can’t see any light filtering from the stained glass windows. I tie my mount with the others and stare at the gear packed in the saddle bag.

Not sure which one would be the most reckless : not wearing it and getting myself in a tricky situation, or putting it on and risking a… a trance. I need to find another word for it. I should have thought this through a bit better. I suppose it’s time to put the laudanum to the test. After all, it did work when Darius gave my that drug-laced wine. Hopefully I dose it properly and don’t end up asleep on the forest ground, now that would be ridiculous.

I look at the small vial; I have no idea how much I’m supposed to take. The only thing allegedly able to prevent me from turning into a withering monster who doesn’t make the difference between friends or enemies. Eh. Some people are less lucky than that. They don’t even _get_ to be monsters, the poor things. I’ll start with half a sip and see what happens; I’ve taken some right before leaving too, it should be enough. I wash the drug down with some water, and gear up. On an empty stomach, it should work its magic fast enough. “What do you think, V?” I whisper. “I don’t want you gone, you know, I just need to take the edge off. I know you mean well.”

I look up at the starry sky. Talking to myself – if V even is a part of myself – in the middle of the real King’s estate, looking for people who are considered traitors by everybody within the walls. I feel a small surge of excitement in my chest. It’ pleasant; more so than fear and bitterness. I set my teeth and start putting the gear on.

There’s a tingle between my shoulder blades and under my feet once I’m completely buckled in, an unease at feeling the weight of the gear and the contact of the leather straps. I close my eyes and listen to Other V. She’s quieter than usual, but not completely gone like those times I woke up after passing out. Exactly what I wanted. Enough time wasted anyway, I have to do what I came here for, which is still unclear at this point, but has nothing to do with drugging myself into a stupor.

The heavy wooden door has been left ajar, but only silence greets me inside the stone church. A few minutes of sneaking around later I find a trap door partly covered by a heavy rug. I lift it open with an ominous creak that echoes under the high ceiling. The stairs going down into the ground are very similar to the ones in my cave. I’m not an expert, but it’s safe to assume that the same sort of sinkhole situation is going on here, which would explain why I can hear nothing :everything is happening far enough under my feet that no noise arrives up here. I get a warning from Other V, a lazy, half hearted one reminding me that I could get trapped again. The magic juice is working, but I could take a bit more of it, just in case. I don’t have time to reach for the bottle that I hear familiar voices shouting, and the next instant, three heads appear : Armin and Moblit are carrying an unconscious Hange.

“Oh shit,” I yell, “are you ok?” Moblit instantly reaches for a sword. “No, it’s Victoria! I came to –” I stop, unable to say exactly why I’m here.

“Help us lift her,” Armin yells. He’s covered in dust and reeks of gunpowder.

I pull Hange out of the hole in the floor, her head lolling onto my shoulder. She has time to copiously bleed all over me and the stone in the seconds it takes the two men to climb out. While they carry her out I run to the horses to get first aid supplies. With only light from a torch, the injury is a nightmare to dress.

“Is that… was that made by a bullet?” Armin nods, his face ashen. We eventually manage to get it cleaned up and bandaged, and put her arm in a sling. All of us are covered in drying blood when we finally sit on the grass. “Where are the others?” Moblit points at the ground.

“A whole maze of caves,” Armin explains. “Made of strange stone, and vast, larger than yours, way bigger than anything I’ve seen.”

“A nightmare. Without Mikasa and Captain Levi, we’d all be dead.”

They catch me up on more or less everything that has happened so far; the catastrophic battle in the streets of Trost, the new pistol-waving squad dedicated to destroying the Corps, led by no other than the notorious criminal known as Kenny The Ripper, how they managed to get Eren and Historia despite everyone’s best efforts, how Armin had to – had to – he chokes on the words, then makes the motion of shooting at me with a rifle. His jaw locks and he remains silent, staring at the ground. Moblit picks up : he tells me that Levi eventually revealed that he learnt most of what he knew from said Kenny ( _raised by criminals, to be a criminal_ , he’d said. Guess he speaks understatement as well as I do), and that any tactic he’d come up with would probably fail, particularly on unknown terrain. But they used explosions, hid in the smoke, and got close to their opponents, too close to be hit by the bullets, but Hange got shot and thrown onto a stone pillar.

I take a deep breath to process this. "Do you have any idea where Eren and Historia are? Are they still alive, what’s going to happen to them?”

Armin gets up, runs to a nearby bush, and retches. Okay, kid needs a stiff drink. I get up and offer his my flask, but he shakes his head. “Hange put the information we had together,” Moblit explains. “Some things Eren remembered, what she read, parts of the extensive report on Reiss that the commander had ordered, and theorized that, hope you’re sitting tight, the power of titan shifters can be transmitted by eating the host.” I feel all the blood drain from my face. “Eren is going to be eaten, so his commanding voice, that thing he did when he got titans to turn against one of their own, can be transferred to someone else.”

A strong nausea grips my stomach. “Someone else? But who? Historia?” He shrugs. “What the hell…” Fingers shaking, I fumble to get the stopper off my flask. One swig only, can’t be drunk now. Moblit eyes me with unconcealed envy and I hand him the rest. On the bright side, it seems that the opium is working: there has been no shrieking and no urge to slaughter anyone. Yet. “What do we do now? Do we go back and find them?”

“No,” Armin says, coming back to sit with us. “We wait. And we hope.”

And so we do. I walk around the abandoned farm and find a well to wash away most of the grime and blood. Hange comes to herself quickly enough. “Hi Victoria!” she says. “Good to see you here! Nice uniform,” she adds, somehow managing to get a smile from me. Moblit tells her to keep still. She feels her arm and laughs. “I’ll survive,” she replies, shivering. I throw my jacket over to her, I’m too anxious to be cold anyway. She opens her mouth to protest when the earth starts shaking.

“Oh, what now?” I swear loudly, getting to my feet.

“Get the horses, we can’t let them run away,” Moblit yells back.

Armin and I barely have time to reach the panicked beasts that the ground splits open under the church.

I scream; Other V screams, Moblit, Armin and Hange scream as the building gets swallowed down a deep gash in an ear-splitting cacophony of stone. And unbearable heat rises from the newly formed sinkhole along with a stink. _The_ stink.

“Titan!” Hange shouts, at the top of her lungs.

We freeze, watching an enormous, deformed hand slam on the ground, attached to a bony arm. Another follows, then a thick neck, a grotesquely long and wide torso compared to the arms and legs. The monster is larger than the highest building in the city, and the heat and smell spill into the night as it hoists itself out of the gash, moaning.

The horses are thrashing and pulling at the halters and reins, Armin is cursing at the one pulling the wagon, Moblit is carrying Hange away from the widening gash and she’s yelling words I can’t make out from where I am. The trees are shaking, falling down around us, and V’s voice is getting louder; _run, run away; attack; run._ I manage to follow her process, calculating the steps she needs to have me take to save ourselves. Her attention focuses on the horses, then on Armin, the only targets she has, the reason I’m still standing there and not leaving the area. _Leave the horses and kill the boy; run._

No, hell no, I’m doing none of this. I plant both feet in the soft forest soil, brace my left arm and shoulder to hold the horses still despite their desperate attempts at fleeing, and with my right hand I reach for the vial.

 _I’m not letting go of the horses_ , I tell V.

The titan is ignoring us, crawling away in the direction I came from, a misshapen, inflated caterpillar from hell, leaving a trail of blazing trees, destruction, and stench behind it.

The world gets blurry; come on, magic juice. I take another sip and lick the rest of medicine off my lips. Trying to ignore V, I tie the horses even tighter to a trunk.

My eyes fall onto one of the burning trees; the rest of the world disappears, only this tree remains, the fire forming a circle around it. There’s a silhouette trapped in there, unable to escape, a girl, she’s screaming. V. _This isn’t reality_ , I tell her. _We are not stuck behind a wall of flames. We are far from the fire, V, we need the horses, and we need this kid. He’s the way out._ Smell the horses, hear the rumble of stone, see the moon, taste the spices and sugar mixed in the drug. _Breathe_.

Whether it’s the laudanum, my inner dialogue with her or my stubborn refusal to give in, I don’t know, but V stops yelling at me to run, and her attention snaps to Armin, who has been thrown down by the horse he was trying to mount. Demented by terror, thrashing right and left, the beast is struggling to free itself from the yoke; if the boy doesn’t move he will get trampled to death. The horse rears, foam dripping from its mouth. Without stopping to think about it, I send my right hand out and catch the reins lashing wildly. I pull with all my might; the horses’ powerful body jolts to the side and his hooves come crashing down a mere ten inches from where the boy’s head is. I let go, and the horse finally breaks free from the harness and dashes away into the night. V goes quiet, an abrupt silence that makes my head spin. I look around, dazed. My hand is bleeding where the leather has sliced my flesh but despite opening and closing my fingers, I feel no pain. Armin is staring at me, moonlight reflecting in his bright eyes. A drop of sweat runs down my spine, and I shiver. Is this what happens when she takes over?

Hange calls to us, asking if we’re still alive. The unearthly sounds of the titan are receding; minute after minute, as we manage to calm the horses, the thicket becomes quiet again except for the occasional sound of a piece of rock detaching itself and rolling down.

Slowly, without a word, all four of us draw near the exposed entrails of the cave. High pillars of a strange, shiny stone rise from the ground, a stone I’ve never seen before. We stay there in silence, peering into the gleaming gap, trying to spot movement, something, anything, until Armin speaks the question that we were too craven to even voice.

“Do you… do you think that they’re… dead?”

“No,” someone says forcefully. Three pairs of eyes turn to me. Did I speak? Was that my voice? “I refuse to believe it.” It does sound like me. Historia, Sasha, Jean; Levi… My jaw clenches painfully. “No,” I say again.

“But, they were still underneath the –“

“Shut up,” I interrupt the boy. Where are the reinforcements? They were supposed to leave at nightfall, and they knew where they were going. What time is it? I try to look for the moon, but I can’t tell how long ago it was that I arrived here. Do I have a chance to find them if I go down there and dig? The church is gone, so are the stairs. Where do we start?

“How far does this go?” I ask Hange.

“A lot deeper than this,” she says.

“Then that’s where they are. Look at the tunnel where that thing came from. It’s from further under this level. We need to start taking the rocks out.”

Moblit stares at me like I’m insane. “The cave collapsed. And we can’t just dig! With what do you want to extract the boulders?”

I turn around to shout. “Am I the only one here not relying on hope and luck?” I promised, I promised I wouldn’t give up easily. Please, if there’s some higher power at work here, let them be safe.

The truth is staring at me, however. Even if they are down there, it could take days to find them, and they will run out of air and water. Moving a single boulder could further damage the structural integrity of the whole complex and bury them even deeper, and perhaps they’re already crushed under rocks and – the image of a body laying limp under tons of stone comes to my mind and I fall to my knees, a sharp pain swelling in my guts.

Armin puts a hand on my shoulder. His eyes are deep wells of anguish. “Victoria, there’s nothing else to do but wait.”

Hange asks for her saddlebag. “Let me draw what I remember of the layout. Might give us an idea of where to start searching.”

\---

According to Hange’s estimations, there’s a couple holes out of which they’re more likely to crawl out from. She turns out to be right. I’m hovering above one of them when I hear swearing. I call for the others. Armin is the first there, and he sticks his head in the ground to shout. When I see Sasha’s hair emerge from the hole, I barely resist forcefully pulling her out of it.

“We made it!” she roars. Seeing that I’m stunned into silence, Armin asks about the others. “Down there, we’re all good! Eren managed to harden his titan, and it held the cave! We’ve been looking for a way out of this damn thing for ages!” She disappears down the hole again. I sit in the charred grass, fighting back tears of relief, my entire body shaking from the released tension. _They are alive._

Sasha comes back, followed by Connie, then Jean helping Historia. I reach down to take her hand, and she smiles at me. She’s exhausted and dirty, but seems unharmed. She locks eyes with mine and nods, answering my silent question. A bit of the accumulated tension leaves my body, but I'm not truly relieved yet. A few minutes later, Mikasa and Levi appear, carrying Eren. He’s half dressed, his face covered in blood, his eyes bloodshot and his cheeks bearing strange markings, and he looks like he could collapse on the spot. Armin rushes to his friends, and wraps Eren’s arm around his shoulder to hoist him up. Levi wipes his hands on his shirt and stops, the lower half of his body still in the hole. His gaze follows the kids already walking away; he closes his eyes and lets out a short sigh. I walk to him and extend my hand. “Hey,” I say softly. His eyes shoot open and slither up to my face, slightly narrowed.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

I give a half smile. _He is alive_. As unreadable and foul-mouthed as ever. The relief that washes over me is almost too much to process. “You really thought I was going to stay tucked away in Mitras while you were here risking your skin?” He makes a noncommittal sound and stares at my hand. “Come on, let’s get you out of this thing.” He hesitates, then nods. My hand closes around his extended forearm and I pull. Once he’s out, his eyes lift to my face and I think I detect faint disbelief in them, as if he was going to ask the question again, but he doesn’t. I hand him my flask, which he takes gingerly, still staring at me. “It’s water.” He nods, looks away, and drinks, his features relaxing.

He gives me the water back as soon as he’s done. “Where’s the rest of the reinforcements?”

“I left earlier than them, but it shouldn’t be long now. They were supposed to leave at sundown, once Erwin was patched up a little.”

We start walking away from the sinkhole. “Patched up?”

“Interrogation got rough, from what I could tell. But he’s fine. Well, apart from the fact that he lost an arm, which you hadn’t told me about.”

“It didn’t really matter, did it?”

“Could have. A weakened body can sustain less pain. And don’t get me started on weakened spirits.”

“Erwin’s spirits don’t weaken.”

I smile again. “So I gathered.”

We’ve reached the others, and Hange is explaining excitedly what happened. “We saw this titan rise from the ground and start crawling, it almost set everything on fire, we thought it was the end of the world!”

“What happened down there?” I ask.

“We need to get a move on,” the captain says, ignoring my question. Can’t really blame him… “Horses still here?”

“Lost one.” He grimaces. “I figured it was better the horse than Armin.” No reaction. “Hange, Eren and Historia can’t ride anyway.”

He pinches his lips. “All right. Victoria, torches.” Of course.

Hange gets hoisted onto the cart, Eren more or less cleaned and given a shirt, and everyone checked for injuries. We leave the ruined estate behind and follow the trail of destruction left by the monster.

We ride into the night, surrounded by the smell of burning wood. After a while, Levi brings his horse next to mine. “You’re not going to turn crazy on us when you see it again, right?”

“Nah. Found a way around it.” He side glances at me. “Long story. I think your bit is more interesting.”

Hange seems both concerned and happy that she’d been right. It seems that Eren is the carrier of something called the Founding Titan, which up to now had been hosted exclusively by the Reiss family, giving them power to wipe people’s memory clean, and also command other titans. But only someone of royal blood can yield the power.

Reiss’ plan was to get Historia to eat Eren so that the power would go back to the correct bloodline. But in doing so, she’d become bound by an oath, the oath of the first king, it’s called, forcing her to keep the truth about titans and humanity a secret, not allowing her to destroy them and free all of us.

“That sounds fucked up,” I mutter under my breath.

Historia’s father was about to inject her the substance that would turn her into a mindless titan when she decided that she wasn’t going to comply. She smashed the syringe and tried to free Eren. Reiss then decided to consume the titan liquid and ended up making himself into a monstrosity.

When we come within a reasonable distance of the Reiss titan, Eren makes some attempts at ordering it to stop, but nothing works. An argument ensues, that I take no part in. Eren offers to let himself be eaten by the Reiss titan, so he can become human again. But Historia doesn’t believe that if this happens, they’ll be able to get her father to reveal the secrets; this oath seemed inviolable, why else would generations of previous carriers all act the same despite being witnesses to the despair of humanity? This doesn’t leave that many solutions : the power must remain dormant within Eren until he finds a way to access it, and since this seems impossible, the only remaining path to the truth is the key his father gave him, the key to his house's basement. And, one way or another, the Reiss titan must be stopped.

Digging my heels into the sides of the horse, I come as close to the titan as I can without catching fire myself. If I could only get V under control again, like I did earlier, perhaps I would be able to resist the heat long enough to slice its nape open and put an end to this nightmare. And if I die, at least it will be doing something useful. I exhale slowly. Worth a shot.

“Don’t even think about it.”

I snap my head around to see Levi riding up to me.

“About what?”

“Trying to kill that thing.”

I look at the burnt ground, then at Levi. He’s right. “How did you know?” He doesn’t answer. “If only we could attract its attention, we’d lead him into a lake or something so someone could reach it.”

“Yeah.”

I pull on the reins and let the horse slow down to a walk. Slowly, the temperature becomes bearable again. Instead of riding back towards the wagon, Levi matches speed with me. “Are you worried I’m going to turn? I told you I wouldn’t.”

He lifts his head towards the sky. “I know.” I let my eyes try to detect a hint on his face that would help me determine why he’s come after me if it isn’t to make sure I’m not going to lose control. The warm light from the burning shrubs in the distance have smoothed down the marks of exhaustion from his face, but I can tell he's holding everything in, as I suppose he always does. I watch him, taking in every detail, the speck of dried blood on his neck, right below his jaw, that he probably missed despite his best efforts, the way his fingers are barely holding the reins, the faint rising of his chest when he breathes in, how his features stand out against the silver glow of the moon. Slowly, he lowers his head again and our eyes meet. I believe I catch a glimpse of softness in his pupils, a subtle shadow of something that wasn't there before. I hold his gaze, unable to look away. No; unwilling to look away. Why would I lie to myself? I know very well what is happening, what that twinge in my gut implies, and how much I wish I could make the titan, the carriage, the entire world disappear at this moment. I would get closer, speak softly, or not speak at all, letting the night work its magic, allowing myself to become vulnerable, and perhaps –

A sharp cry wrenches me back to reality. “Captain! The commander's here!”

Without one look back at me, Levi turns his horse around and disappears; pushing the silly feeling of disappointment away, I click my tongue and follow. When I reach the rest of the group, I stay behind the carriage, hiding my face the best I can. Now’s not the time to be asked questions. Levi notices, but says nothing either and exposes the situation to the commander. They look at the carriage, at the titan, at the sky.

Order is given to ride to Orvud, where the beast is going, and fast. At this rate, he’ll reach the walls after dawn. Carefully, I check how much laudanum is left in the small bottle; enough to make it through tomorrow. It's all a matter of keeping the monster on a leash.

\---

The captain of the garrison in Orvud did not take it well that we’re letting the monstrosity reach his district. Surprisingly. His look of defeats would be pitiful if it wasn’t Erwin Smith he was caving in to. The man has such a way with words, and even if he hadn’t, he is right : evacuating the population would only attract the titan further within the wall. At least here, we can try something. I’m not convinced that firing cannons at it, even with all the firepower in the world, will work, but who knows. Something tells me that this is not the whole plan, however. I’m starting to see how they work, how much they hide for the greater good of the people around them. The irony of it isn't lost on me.

Some soldiers are staring at me and whispering. I slipped inside the room with the rest of the squad and if Erwin has noticed, he hasn’t said a word, but others were bound to not recognize me. Doesn’t help that the uniform I’m wearing bears Zackly's sigil. I tiptoe closer to Sasha and nudge her gently.

“What?” she whispers, barely moving her lips.

“I just wanted to know how your head felt.”

“Fine. Stop talking to me,” she adds, “we’ll get told off.” Her gaze has never left Levi, who’s standing arms crossed next to the commander. With a smile, I take a step to the side. That should be enough proof that I know _someone_ in here.

The meeting’s end is called without anyone challenging any of the decisions made. The troops get divided between the ones who will man the wall and the others who will wake up and gather the population in the streets under the guise of an “evacuation drill”. I stick with the people I know, silently hoping I won’t be asked to leave. When only a small group remains, the Commander turns to me. Instinctively, I straighten up. Damn. And I thought I was immune to this kind of so called natural authority.

“I suppose you are Victoria Feuerbach,” he says.

Now, as often, there’s several ways this could go. I see two. I can be my usual annoying, haughty self, sarcastically praise his deduction skills, add a whole lot of tension to the night, come off as rude and disrespectful and be escorted out, told to go back to the capital and leave the brave acts to them. Or I could introduce myself and be a decent human being. I side glance at Levi, who’s looking at a spot on the ceiling, eyes half shut, his face unreadable. I opt for the boring, yet dangerous option.

“I am.”

“Thank you for hosting my soldiers in your home when they were stranded outside the wall.” I wonder how much he knows. Everything, probably. I’m sure the reports were thorough.

“It was a pleasure. You’re all welcome to visit any time, when everything is back to normal.”

The commander cracks a faint smile. “I also gather that you lent your hand to other aspects of this operation.”

I tilt my head slightly. “I can only hope that my small contribution was useful.”

“Every decision made over the past weeks has led us to this moment. You did your part, when you could have protected yourself.”

His words instil a faint, delectable sensation of pride in my little heart. “There’s not much more I can do, I’m sure you know it.” He nods imperceptibly.

“You think borrowing a uniform makes everything you did better?” That was Eren, from a corner of the room. The temperature in the room drops several degrees. Why is he so hostile to me? I know that some people just don’t like each other, but he’s antagonized me from the very beginning. Levi’s gaze slides towards the boy. The captain still hasn’t moved an inch of his body, and I suspect he’s considering letting us have it out. But I don’t want to keep fighting a child, however confrontational he’s being.

“No.”

Erwin hastily speaks, regaining command over the conversation again with a few words. “I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you on stage, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve met under other circumstances.”

“We have; for the other aspect of my employment.”

“I see.”

Now if there ever was a moment when I would have liked not being the centre of attention, it would be this one. I knew this would have to happen, and sooner rather than later. It’s better to have it out in the open, and I suspect that Erwin knew already and is getting this out of the way before it festers and takes more importance than it should have.

“You…” Armin begins, “you tried to kill him?”

“Yes,” Erwin says, “I believe that she means she tried to kill me.”

Ah, he doesn’t know _everything_ , then. I laugh. “Commander, you’re the target I refused to take out. The first and last.” A charged, expectant silence fills the room.

“I hope you don’t regret your decision,” the commander says.

 _If only I knew the answer to that myself_. “I don’t do regret anymore,” I reply. “It’s a waste of time.” Of all the stares focused on me, I can’t decide whether the heaviest is Erwin’s or Levi’s. I keep my head high and my breathing even. “I remember something about clean slates,” I whisper, letting my voice trail off.

A few seconds go by, then the commander smiles again. The tension in the room recedes. I don’t think I’ll ever realize how close I was to getting all of my limbs chopped off.

“Good,” Erwin says. “Suggestions?” he adds.

Confused, I look at the others, to see if they’ve understood what he’s talking about.

Levi speaks first. “Cannons are a first line of defence, but it can’t be our last. We all know it won’t work.”

Oh, they’re talking about the titan… Wait, they’re not asking me to step out?

Erwin makes a frustrated sound. “I know. We have to get close enough to get the nape, as usual.” I guess I can stay… “He’ll regenerate too fast from whatever injury the cannons may do,” the commander continues, “and he’s too hot for us to land on it.”

“Could set fire to it,” I say under my breath. Again, all eyes travel to me. I should learn to shut up, sometimes.

Levi mumbles a string of words among which the only ones I recognize are ‘fucking arsonist’. I ignore his input and point at the schematic drawing of the titan on the table.

“Might work faster than the regeneration. Keep it vulnerable.”

Jean draws closer. “How will that help with reaching the target? You know how small it is.”

Point taken. “We could wait until it’s consumed, until it’s one of the last parts left.”

“No, it will take too long,” Armin objects. “By the time it works, _if_ it works, the titan will have destroyed the district five times over. Isolating the nape, yes, but not with fire.”

“An explosion,” the commander says. Blowing things up? I can get behind that. It’s almost like setting them on fire. “With a big enough blast sent at his head, it will scatter into pieces that we can destroy one after the other.”

“At his head?” Levi comments.

“Hm, you’re right, it needs to be from the inside.” How did Erwin deduce this from those three words? I stare at the both of them; they haven’t even looked at each other.

“How will we get the powder there? He’s face down.”

“Eren,” the commander asks abruptly, lifting his eyes from the table, “do you think your titan could throw something into this titan’s mouth?”

“Yes, he can,” Levi answers for the boy. “He will.”

“It’s an even smaller target,” Jean mutters. “What if he misses?”

Hastily, the commander draws the shape of a face, exposing his theory that the crawling has scraped off skin and bone from the entirety of t he titan’s front, leaving only a gaping hole instead of a mouth. Much easier to aim at.

Everybody seems to agree that this is a good idea, probably because it’s the only one we have that’s not hoping the monster simply turns around. Now to convince the garrison to give them powder instead of keeping it for the cannons…

We leave the room and I slip next to Levi. “Are all plans like this?” I whisper. Connie overhears me and glances over his shoulder, looking worried.

Levi whirls around, grabs my arm and marches me to the end of another corridor, out of earshot. He pushes me against the wall. “You _do not_ question orders in front of my soldiers,” he says, enunciating every syllable.

I sense the barely veiled threat in his voice. His hand could turn my good arm to mush if he wanted to, and his eyes are gleaming with contained anger. Gone is the almost-softness I thought I had seen when we were riding. Bloody moonlight, making me imagine things.

“I was asking _you_ ,” I hiss, “not my fault _your soldiers_ can’t keep their ears to themselves.”

He moves his arm across my chest to block me, his eyes locked on mine, his mouth a mere slit in his face. The man is running on sheer fury and two hours sleep and here I am, pissing him off for nothing. He’d be right to break my nose. I’d break my nose. I make myself smaller, inoffensive, lower my eyes, turn my body soft. “You’re right,” I say. “I’m sorry. I should be more careful. I _will_ be more careful.”

He glares at me but relaxes his stance a little. Then he looks me over, and relaxes some more. The anger has vanished, only hard rock determination and an infinite lassitude are left in his eyes, amid the thin layer of rock dust still coating his face; the state he’s in, he shouldn’t even be able to stand. He hasn’t completely let go of my arm yet.

“Yes,” he eventually whispers, looking away, “most plans are like this.”

“That’s a lot of uncertainty to be working with.”

He doesn’t answer and keeps his eyes on a spot next to my right ear. He’s still holding my arm, and I don’t dare move. I barely dare breathe.

“You get used to it,” he says. He looks at me again. “Did you ever get orders to get rid of me?” he asks abruptly.

So, that’s what’s been bothering him? “Never. Doesn’t mean they didn’t issue the order, but they asked someone else. Perhaps they hoped you’d get yourself killed on an exploration mission. You know, they only wanted to stop Erwin from asking questions. You weren’t asking questions, and despite being hailed as a hero by most of the people, you remained cold, solitary and unapproachable. They had nothing to fear.”

He ignores my clever analysis. “Why didn’t you obey that order?”

I manage a wry smile. “That’s a story for another day, after we’re done with the bloated father figure crawling here to swallow us whole.”

His hand contracts over my arm and his mouth twitches. I feel the twinge in my stomach again, like my insides have decided to fuck off somewhere else entirely, leaving a pit of delicious pain in their stead.

He releases his grip and runs two fingers on the straps around my hips. My skin tingles. “Find gear that fits you,” he says. “We need feet on the ground to make sure the people don’t trample themselves to death, and I’m not sure what the Garrison here amounts to. I’ll have everyone else with me on the wall. Think you can do it?” he adds.

“Yes, don’t worry.”

“You have to tell me if you think you can’t. I won’t be able to come and stop you if you turn.”

“Levi, if I say that I can do something, I’ll do it. You asked me to trust you, not so long ago. It goes both ways.” He closes his eyes, then gives a small nod. A strange blend of pride, confidence and sheer relief rises in my chest. “I would like to speak to Historia, may I do that now? Does she know?” He nods again, still silent. “Thank you.” He looks me over once more time, then starts walking. My throat tightens. “Hey!” He turns around. What do I even want to say? “I…” He arcs an eyebrow. “Good luck, I guess.” He remains perfectly still.

Wow. What a line, V.

He nods curtly, and resumes walking away.

Holy shit, I didn’t know I had the power within me to be this awkward. Me! I always know what to say. Always. A man looking at me has never made me lose my wits this way. Must be the opium.

_Good luck, I guess._

I’m never letting myself live this one down.

\---

I find Historia sitting outside the supplies barracks when I walks out of it after getting a harness that doesn’t feel loose on me. I could make do with the other one, but this is much safer. She’s also geared up. “You’re going to fight?” I ask her. She nods. “Think it’s sensible?”

“I’m not going to wait behind the lines while others die for me; What kind of queen would that make me?”

“The kind who actually lives and reigns.” She smiles. “They’re not going to let you.”

“Who?”

“Erwin, Levi, Eren… everyone. It’s too dangerous. They will try to stop you. Well, perhaps not everyone, but the commander? Risk losing you, after all he’s been through to get you there? I don’t think so.”

“Do you think I should stay here?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think, little one, because you’re going to do what you want. I know better than stand in your way, particularly today.”

“Then let me handle Commander Smith.”

I sit on the bench next to her, and watch the tense ballet of soldiers preparing for the battle. “How exactly are you going to handle him?”

“I’ll tell him the truth : I know that the population is not going to accept me, it’s not that simple.”

“We have enough paper evidence to decorate Wall Maria. They will have to.”

She shakes her head. “It needs to be stronger than paperwork and confessions obtained through torture by the military. If I destroy this ultimate threat, I become their saviour.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Warrior queen. I quite like it. Been carefully listening to Armin, eh?”

“Not only,” she says with a smile. “This story is one of hope and salvation, of a new, enlightened era, where everyone can be a hero : a soldier, a farmer, an artist… even a scrawny blonde girl born out of wedlock. We’re all chosen ones when we choose ourselves. Let me be their hero, and the rest will follow.”

I lower my eyes and smile widely. “That could make for a nice show, once it’s all over, for a tavern or another.”

“I knew you’d say that.” She laughs.

“You’ve accepted your role in the world, then?”

“I don’t have much of a choice. And even if I did, I think I’d still do it.”

I shuffle my feet uncomfortably. “I have to come clean, little one. I knew before you did. Levi told me, and he asked me to keep it a secret from you, because he was afraid I’d help you escape the responsibility.”

She sighs. “He was right. I wondered why you didn’t come to me before leaving for the capital.” She shakes her head. “All of us, we did what had to be done. That’s how the world works.”

“You’re not even a little bit angry at the captain? I suppose he wasn’t exactly polite in asking you.”

“I’ll live,” she says after a little hesitation.

She’ll tell me what happened, in time; I know it. “You do realize we’re going after your father, right?”

“After all he’s done… he too believed he was doing what he had to. We might never know whether he was the misguided one, or we all are. In any case, his decisions led him to transforming into a terrible threat for this population he so wished to protect, so he has to be destroyed. It’s the safest solution for everyone involved. I’m not letting him eat Eren.”

“Yeah,” I tell her with a smile. “I had figured that out.”

She remains silent another moment. “You’re going to fight too,” she says.

“I’ll be in the streets, with the citizens, trying to keep them as safe as possible. From themselves, mostly, because if you guys fail, there’s nothing we can do to stop the destruction.” I make my neck crack. “I think Erwin underestimates how stubborn and oblivious a sheltered population can be. When they realize it’s a titan, there’s going to be a panic.”

“We’ll get it done, and swiftly.”

“I know you will.” I look up at the people in the yard. “Historia, you need rest before the day breaks, and I can’t afford to sit around while everybody else runs around. Be safe, little one. I’m planning a hell of a party for your coronation.”

She laughs, squeezes my sleeve and walks away, her step calm and confident. I keep watching the agitation, then take a deep breath, rub some medicine on my lips, and get up to find an officer who looks like they know what they’re doing. I can follow orders for one day.


	23. There Shall Be Monsters

It had been expected that the population wouldn’t be delighted at being pulled out of bed for a mock evacuation, but even I never would have thought that people could be that uncooperative. We’ve tried everything : explaining, cajoling, promising, even issuing threats. They just don’t believe in the usefulness of this drill and rumours are already spreading that it’s an attempt from the military to gauge how compliant the citizens are. I can’t really blame them: inhabitants of the inner districts most certainly haven’t seen a titan, it’s a wonder they even believe in their existence. Perhaps some of them in this crowd don’t. They certainly refuse the idea that one of the beasts could make it that far into the circle, let alone breach their wall. We’re looking at a big scale catastrophe if it happens.

The population will not be harmed, Erwin promised. It’s impossible. The titan doesn’t even have to get inside, just being aware of its existence will send the crowd into a panic that _will_ make victims. Despite our best efforts, the groups of people aren’t orderly, there’s carts and horses scattered in the streets, children running everywhere and escaping the lazy surveillance of their parents.

I hear a commotion on my left, and hurry to help the soldier I’ve partnered up with, who’s being grabbed by unhappy citizens. “Hey, hey. Hands off.” I swat a couple fingers and shield the other girl behind me. She’s taller than I am but a lot younger, and I don’t think anything in our training ever prepared us to face a mob of humans.

“Who do you think you are, giving orders?” a man yells at me.

I eye him and take a deep breath; I must remain calm. “You can be angry all you want, but no grabbing.”

“I asked you a question,” the man insists.

Well I’m not going to keep the façade very long with that prick. “You ask who I am? I’m someone a lot less nice than her, and I can’t guarantee you won’t lose fingers if you try to touch me.”

A woman lifts her red face towards me. “Does that mean we’re in a military state?”

What the fuck does that even mean? Compared to what? “We’re just trying to protect you,” I say, my voice even. It’s my last attempt at diplomacy.

“From what? Titans? We have the walls for that.”

I can’t repress a smirk. If only they knew. “How can you be so sure of that?”

“We were promised, by the king, by the government!”

“You mean the same people who’ve been lying to you for the past century? Oh yeah, that sounds reasonable. Trustworthy sources, of course.”

I don’t think they appreciate my caustic tone, but it shuts them up for a bit.

My eyes wander to some citizens already going back to their houses, their shops, or even the tavern. What’s happening up there, I wonder, gazing towards the sun rising above the wall. Narrowing my eyes, I can make out small spots, silhouettes perhaps. It’s just as likely it’s only my imagination.

The cannons start firing the very next minute. The crowd falls silent; I can almost sense the doubt rippling through them. “Smoke!” someone shouts. A baby starts wailing. The people yell panicked questions at us.

_It begins._

My teammate tries to be reassuring. “We warned you that cannons were part of the drill, all of this is normal.” She side glances at me, anxiety seeping from her eyes and stance. You and me both, girl.

Other V is not reacting. Yet. I’ve taken everything that was left in the vial, and I hope she’s knocked out for at least a couple of hours. It was probably a bit too much, I can feel my senses dulled down, there’s a delay between seeing or hearing something and acting on it, forcing me to concentrate even more on the slightest detail.

The cannons fire again, and again, almost relentlessly. I cast another glance at the top of the wall and watch a large cloud coming up, wind blowing it towards the rooftops. It’s an opulent district, with numerous tall houses belonging to rich merchants and public figures. Delicate curtains flow from open windows, the roofs aren’t missing any tiles, I would enjoy my stay here if it wasn’t for the whole titan situation. The smell of powder reaches my nostrils and tickles my throat.

The other soldier gasps next to me. I focus my attention upwards again; behind the cloud of cannon smoke, a cloud of steam. The titan is right outside the wall, and the cannons have done nothing.

Old instincts kick in; my eyes jump from one vantage point to another, mapping out routes. One to lead the people away, one to protect them just long enough for another group to leave towards the gate, one to save me and my teammate, and one to save myself. Despite everything, I also register one to reach the top of the wall. If I’m to die here, it won’t be under the rubble of some judge’s manor.

A deep rumble spiked with screams snaps me out of it. A flayed, deformed hand has landed on the wall. My heart stops, then resumes beating, pounding hard in my chest. A second hand falls on the wall, sending enormous chunks of stone onto the buildings below. The screams die away, leaving place to an eerie silence. Then someone yells. “To the gate!” All hells break lose.

“No!” I launch myself ahead of the crowd, trying to direct them towards the planned evacuation itineraries. I might as well try to stop a waterfall. They don’t listen to me, they’re not even seeing me, they run, running away, that’s the only thing that matters to them. For every citizen that might acknowledge what I’m yelling at them, ten others are trying to crawl over everyone else. I go back to the platform and land next to my partner. “What do we do now? Who do we report to?”

She’s looking at the titan, paralyzed, and shakes her head. An order to “Stand by!” reaches my ears. People swarm at our feet, whirlpools forming in the current of packed bodies. Some target our platform and start climbing. I don’t even think; wrapping my arm around the soldier’s waist, I lift both of us up onto a nearby roof. We watch the stampede in the streets, the wind knocked out of my lungs by the sheer bestiality of the people trying to climb over each other, pulling soldiers down, making carts tumble behind them to block the way for others. None of the evacuation plans are holding. This time, V stirs; it’s far too close to what I’ve already been through.

I hear the swearwords. I smell cannon powder. I taste coffee from earlier. I feel the metal of the triggers under the pulp of my fingers. I see the messy hair of the soldier next to me. _Breathe_.

An otherworldly moan forces me to look up again. My comrade lets out an ear splitting scream, and I swear. The titan is standing up, slowly; towering above the wall, higher than any building ever made by man. The front of his body has been scraped off, as guessed – predicted – by the commander. Thank hell the bastard his that lucky, or that clever.

I heave and choke when the titan’s guts come down spilling out of him onto the wall. A slab of meat, unidentifiable organ, rolls to the ground, leaving a pestilential red trail on the white stone. I look away, trying to blot out the stench already seeping into the air surrounding us. My teammate is on all fours, puking her breakfast out onto the tiles. Down in the streets, it’s chaos. How many dead already? Guys, you have to get a move on. Seriously. Or there won’t even be victims left for the titan to eat.

All right, orders be damned, I have to do something; I locate people in need of help, over there, some rubble that needs moving so citizens can run. With one last look at my still retching partner, I swing towards them. V protests and I feel the familiar pinch in my shoulder, but people cheer when they see me get closer and I barely resist doing a pirouette before landing. I redirect the energy inside me. _V, the rock is blocking the way out._

I press my right shoulder and arm onto the largest chunk of rock and wedge both feet against cobblestones, and take a deep breath. V, now or never. I close my eyes, hoping that I’m right and she will wake up just long enough to give me a bit of that strength I seem unable to command without her. Here goes nothing. I give a great push. The people around me are yelling frantically at me to do something and I have to use all of my might to avoid lashing out at them. My whole body is getting warmer, my muscles painfully contracted to move that damned boulder, at least an inch. For fuck’s sake, it has to move, it has to move it has to –

V shrieks at me to push harder, and stone scraping against stone, the boulder slides, a couple inches, then more, then my shoulder isn’t against it anymore and it rolls to the side of the street. I let out a roar of triumph, and am almost knocked to the by the throng of demented people diving through he opening I just created. _Animals_. I fly to the roofs again to I try to lead them the best I can and avoid blockages, but the narrow, intricate streets are all filled to the brim. Powerless, I see them cry for help, begging for someone, something, to intervene. If they had only listened to us and behaved calmly…

A blood curling scream echoes behind me. Frantically searching for where it came from, I leap from chimney to chimney, eyes sweeping the swarm below. I freeze when I locate the source of the commotion, and watch in horror as a woman sees her husband, or brother, or friend, being pulled off from a rickety cart where they had both been standing. She screams again, her voice echoed by a different scream. A baby. She’s holding a baby. The cart is rocked harder and harder by the crowd, who see it as a relative safety from the deadly current on the ground.

In two zips, I land on the cart next to the woman. “Enough,” I yell at the people. “Are you hurt?” I ask the woman. She shakes her head. “Good, you’re going to help me, ok? I’m Victoria, if you do what I say everything will be all right.” This time, she nods, clutching her child against her chest.

I straighten my back and load my voice with all the authority I can muster. “Hey, I’m going to carry all of you to the roof, but you have to stop fighting and trying to climb on this cart, or nobody will get to be safe at all.”

They’re not listening. They haven’t even registered that I’m here, that I represent order and power. With all my might, I push away the mental images of the crowd of enraged villagers in the cave. This is different. Now is not then. I have to stay in control, I have to save this woman and her child, if nobody else, at least those two. If I turn here, everybody dies.

I kick the hands gripping the side of the cart with my heavy heels; more than once, I feel a bone or two crack. They’re yelling profanity at me, at the woman, and I yell back, but they don’t stop. As soon as I have detached one, three others take his place. Sweat runs down my face and back, and I have to stop to push sticky hair out of my eyes to see where I must attack next. There’s a taste of blood under my tongue, mixed with the spices from the drugs. I lick my lips, spit, and let out a cry of sheer rage. I look over my shoulder at the woman. She’s shaking, clutching the bundle of cloth against her. The baby, can’t be older than one, is still screaming with all the might of its little lungs.

What I’m doing isn’t working. She’s quite a large woman, but if V helps I can carry her and the child, just high enough to be out of reach of the monsters below. I have to buy a little more time. I break a long piece of wood from the cart and whack blindly, yelling my rage and disgust at the people beneath me. I don’t care anymore if I break finger, hand or whole arm. But they don’t care either; their entire beings are focused on what they believe is salvation, thinking processes short circuited by the overwhelming fear of death. The rickety carts jolts again. The woman falls to her knees and I only manage to stay on my two feet thanks to years of training my body. The platform is tilting, hands already reaching out to grab the hem of her skirt. She holds out the baby. “Take her!” I hear her yell. I stare, unable to move. I cannot tear my eyes off the face of the mother, her distorted lips as she yells my name again and again, her bloodshot eyes filled with tears, the hair stuck to her damp forehead. I have to save her, if only I could have command over my limbs again, I’d pick her up and get her to the roof, and they would both be safe. “Take Maria, save my baby!”

Behind the woman, I confusedly see the people trying to catch us. Extended fingers, clawing at the fabric of her dress; one of them grabs her ankle and pulls off her shoe when she tries to kick him. Their swollen lips hurl sounds that hold no resemblance to words, their mouths hanging agape bearing glistening teeth sharp enough to devour us alive.

“I beg you, take her!”

In a daze, I bend over and gather the wailing, thrashing child into my arms and watch the woman being pulled off the cart, thrown to the ground and trampled; her clothes are torn from her, her head bashed in against the wheel of the cart. The crowd cheers. By the time I register what has happened, she’s dead. Colourful emotions flash before my eyes. Anger; revulsion; sorrow; rage. I try to remain in control, but the streets and houses are fading away already. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, feeling the blood-laced air stream in and out of my lungs. I call to V; behind my eyelids, the burning tree appears. The girl is leaning against it, motionless, and she stares at me. I stare back. She has Askal’s face, Historia’s face, my own face, all the faces of all the terrified girls facing a certain death and wishing they could obliterate the world with one roar.

I see a question forming on her lips. _What now?_

There is only one word left to say, one thing left to do. I smile at the girl.

 _Fight_.

Flames engulf the tree and a blinding light spills over the world. I feel an intense warmth trickle down my spine and a surge of strength course through my veins. Clinging to the baby, I swing my sword into the mass of people; I don’t know how many I get; I don’t care. I can see myself from above, transfigured into an automaton of violence, I see the path my thoughts are taking before translating them into actions to destroy the threat laid out before me. I slash through flesh and bone, forming wide arcs with the sword in my right hand while cradling the child with the left. Eventually, the attacks dwindle away, but despite the wide half circle of cut up bodies at my feet, more irate people are already assembling at my feet, incensed by my own rage. _Time to run, V._

I shoot a grapple somewhere above my head and swing myself and the baby onto the highest roof I can find. I crawl to the edge and look down. Several men have climbed onto the cart; it collapses under their weight, in a slow, gut-wrenching succession of cracks. The climbers fall and get run over by the rest of the throng amassed behind them.

Pulling myself to the ridge of the roof, I rest my back on the chimney. Everyone is dead.

No, not everyone. Not the baby. She’s alone, but she’s safe. I look at the red faced child, exhausted from crying her terror, her cheeks covered in tears, snot and dust. I wipe her the best I can with her little blanket, and hum a tuneless song to try and soothe her. We did it, V. We saved someone. Just this once, not everyone died.

On top of the wall, there’s a rumble of thunder and flashes of golden light. _Eren_. I lift my head and catch sight of the lightning bolts streaking across the sky, and a thought lazily crosses my mind, that they look like the golden light that spilled out of V’s burning tree. Soon afterwards, there’s an explosion that makes the entire district quake. I watch the chunks of titan rain on the city, see little silhouettes launch after the bloody debris, little birds twirling after flying ants. The titan’s hands slip, and disappear from the wall. It’s almost over.

I rest the baby’s head on my shoulder, rocking the both of us back an forth, trying to see which one of the chunks is the one to kill. Blood, sweat and dust stick to my face. I kiss the baby’s dirty head, and unprompted, begin to cry softly. The crowd hasn’t realized yet, I can still hear their angered yells and desperate sobbing. But soon, soon everything will go back to normal.

“Soon,” I whisper to the baby. She’s falling asleep, her only protection against the madness of the world. “Soon, we’ll know if we’ve won.” I look at her face again, at her eyelids opening and closing on bright green eyes. “We’ll be safe soon.”

\---

It’s Levi who comes and find me. They were probably afraid I had turned and sent him. He lands on the roof a few feet from the chimney against which I’m still sitting. He observes me for a minute, and, seeing no movement, gets closer. His eyes go from the hand still clutching the sword, to my dusty face, to the shape I’m cradling. He walks all the way to me, his boots clinking on the tiles. He looks at me again, at the child, at the blood all over my uniform.

“Can you stand?”

I nod and hoist myself up, trying not to wake the baby. She barely stirs. My eyes are immediately drawn to the ground. Blood; blood everywhere, glistening on the cobblestones, and among the debris of the cart, half covered by other bodies, I spot the face and hair of the girl’s mother. From up there, if I don’t look at the puddles of blood everywhere around the broken cart, she looks like she’s sleeping. I waver on my feet, barely holding my balance. An immense urge to cry overwhelms me, to lie down on my side and cry, and be comforted, soothed like I did the child. Levi looks down too.

“What happened here?” Humans. Humans happened here. Only a guttural, half formed word comes out of my lips. His eyes take ages to come back towards my face. “Did you do this? Did you turn?”

I swallow and force myself to meet his eyes. “I did this, and I didn’t turn. I remember every minute of it. V helped me; she isn’t a weakness anymore.” Levi remains motionless, his eyes hooded, waiting. “They wouldn’t let me help them, and I ended the slaughter as soon as I had enough time to get to the roof.” He gives a slight nod. “I could only save her,” I whisper, looking down at the child, still asleep in my arms. “I had to save _someone_. I saved someone,” I say again, more to myself than to him. The truth of the tiny life against my chest strikes me, and I almost gasp when I realize; _we are alive_. The monster saved a life. I can feel a small smile stretching the corners of my mouth; I lift my chin to meet his eyes again, and he stares back, an unknown glint in his pupils.

I push a strand of hair away from my eyes; it falls back, stiff with congealed blood . “Is it over?”

“Yes. Historia got him.”

“They’ve taken to the story, then?”

“What story? She killed him. Her father. Two perfect strokes, I saw it.”

I close my eyes. The universe has a way of getting things to work, after all. “Did someone die?”

“Not anyone you know.” I open my eyes again and look at him. He looks unharmed except for some dirt. The tension I have been holding in my body is released so suddenly that I start shaking like a leaf. “Give me the baby,” he says. My body pivots, instinctively shielding her away from him. I can’t leave her, I promised her mother, she will be safe with me, she has to stay with me. “You’re barely standing, you might drop it. There are several rescue teams down there. They’ll find what’s left of her family. I swear she’ll be fine.”

I stare at the hand he’s extending towards me, firm, steady, reliable. then let sense win over and give him the sleeping child. “Her name’s Maria,” I whisper. He looks down at her grimy face, tucks her head in the nook of his elbow, and carefully initiates his descent from the building.

With careful steps, I reach the edge of the roof to see better. He lands delicately and gives the baby to a woman dressed in a nurse’s cap, who starts examining her.

Levi looks up and gestures to me to come down. Shaking, I get ready to jump; my foot slips, my ankle rolls, and instead of flying, I fall.

 _What a stupid way to go,_ I think as I see windows race past my eyes. V, are you still here? I feel her sluggish reaction; she might be too slow, exhausted by the fight and the drugs. 

A hiss, a snap. I’m folded into warmth and safety, snatched out of the air, caught into a steely grip. People gasp. “He has her!” Instinctively, I bury my face into the hard body against mine.

Levi lands us in a quiet corner. I feel my feet on the ground, but I’m still shaking and I don’t trust my knees not to give in if he lets go. So I cling to his solid warmth, indifferent to how vulnerable I might seem. I don’t think, surrendering to what my senses are telling me : that he’s here, holding me, keeping one arm around my waist and the other around my shoulders; that the fingers of his left hand are digging into my ribs and that his right hand is moving to the base of my skull and gently holding my head; that my heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can feel it; that I can smell blood and gunpowder, that I can hear his sharp breathing and suddenly, a sound, not even a whisper, a mere rustle of voice. “You’re safe.” I close my eyes and rest my forehead on his collarbone.

_I know._


	24. Nightingale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Gabriel Fauré - Pavane in F-sharp minor, Op. 50](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gXdG9ldi010) \- for the second part of this chapter

Darius Zackly was arranging his papers into a pile for the third time in the past ten minutes. He had two clerks taking notes of the meetings, but he’d given up and asked for a pen after Historia’s first debriefing. He needed to write it down, link facts together himself to try and make sense of the mess they had uncovered in less than two days. He was fairly confident that the tiny queen wasn’t lying, but did that mean she had understood everything correctly? They couldn’t be sure. What young Jaeger had said did corroborate her version, however confusing his account of the past night was. Hopefully, that Captain Levi would find survivors from the First Interior Squad and they’d provide more information.

The end of the short recess they’d taken before bringing in the other kids for interrogation was coming to and end, and he needed his wits back. He took off his glasses and lightly pressed his thumbs on his closed eyes. When he reopened them, he assessed the state of the men around him. On his left, Dot Pixis and Nile Dok, who had made the trip with him to Orvud as soon as they’d learnt the titan had been killed. Dot looked like he had fallen asleep, one of those short spells of rest Darius envied him; he’d never been able to sleep on the spot like this. Nile had crossed his arms and was frowning at a bird painted on the empty teacup in front of him. He was still processing the cataclysm that had upturned his life, and hadn’t uttered a single word since the interviews had started, barely glancing at Erwin from time to time. Erwin himself, seated on Zackly’s left, was examining the fingernails on his remaining hand. He hadn’t slept in Sina knew how long but didn’t seem worse for wear. His skin was definitely more sallow and wrinkled than when he’d taken the position as commander of the Scouts, but in his eyes burned the same determination as ever, this fire that made Erwin Smith an extremely dangerous man. He was only sitting through this string of meetings because it would have been a mistake not to attend, and Zackly knew that he was already planning for the next step of his plan : the reconquering of Maria and the territory it used to protect. Then sealing the hole in the wall, reaching Shinganshina, and finally discovering what was in Jaeger’s basement.

Zackly wanted to know, too. The gamble was a risky one, but such was their yet unspoken agreement : the population would have some of the truth and a new, charismatic queen, Zackly would have power, and the Survey Corps would have freedom to act as their please. Not a bad deal, all in all. And if the scouts were successful, it would mean more knowledge of the world, and perhaps a possibility to extend their reach further beyond the walls. Zackly smiled just imagining it : he was about lead humanity on the path to defeat the titans, for the first time in more than a century.

The thought invigorated him and he secured his glasses on his nose again, reaching to the clerk to call the girl Mikasa in. Before he could make a sound, he heard a commotion outside the meeting room, someone speaking loudly, and laughter. _Her laughter._ Nile lifted his eyes ever so slightly from the teacup, and Erwin placed his hand flat on the table. Dot, however, didn’t move an inch.

Zackly swallowed. The next instant, the door was swung wide open and Victoria walked in, closely followed by a frazzled guard. He knew she had made it alive, he had listened to captain Levi’s ‘report’ about how he’d found her in the aftermath of the attack. _I wasn’t there, you ask her what happened_ , he’d said, almost shrugging, when they’d asked why the hell she was covered in blood. The guard tried to grab her arm and she smacked her hand away with – a fan? Where had she found a _fan_? Come to think of it, where had she found the clothes she was wearing? She looked like a rich merchant’s wife.

The guard stammered, her voice strained. “I’m sorry, sir, she insisted, she pushed me out of the way, I wasn’t going to open fire on –”

“It’s all right,” Zackly said. “Let her in.” There was absolutely no point in denying her entry anyway.

Victoria turned around, patted the guard’s cheek. “Told you,” she said with a smile. “Close the door on your way out, please dear.” Her voice was too cheery for comfort. Victoria walked inside the meeting room as the dumbfounded soldier meekly obeyed and closed the door behind her. She grabbed a chair, examined it with a pout, then raised her eyebrows and sat anyway. “Is there any of this tea left? Yes? You,” she ordered, pointing at one of the soldiers aligned near the windows,” pour me a cup will you? One sugar, no milk.” Dot had opened his eyes and was observing Victoria, his face still unreadable. The young soldier hesitated, then obeyed. “Much obliged,” Victoria whispered, casting him a wide smile. He turned beet red and hastily went back to stand with the others, back even straighter than before. The two clerks exchanged a look.

Zackly repressed a laugh. He wasn’t sure what the point of all this act could be, but she was entertaining, as always. Then he remembered he had to be very careful. “What do you want, Victoria?”

“I have questions.”

“We are the one asking questions here,” Nile muttered.

Victoria laughed, tapped her spoon on the rim of the teacup and leaned back in her chair. “What on Earth were you idiot men thinking, grilling little Historia for more than two hours?”

There was a short silence, broken only by the rustle of fabric made by several men and women shifting uneasily. “We needed information,” Zackly replied. Where was she going with this? “It was necessary.”

“It was irresponsible.” She took a sip of tea, grimaced, put the cup down and pushed it away.

“She would have told us if she was too tired to continue,” Erwin said.

“Oh, of course, after everything she’s been through, putting her duty aside because she felt tired. That’s… likely.” Erwin smiled, but didn’t answer. “That wasn’t my initial point, but you brought it up, so… Do you even know where she is now?”

“Where Historia is?”

“Yes, Historia, our new queen.”

“She probably went to talk to her friends.”

Victoria shook her head. “She’s staring at a wall, in a hidden corner.”

“Then she wants to be left alone, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“She wants to cry, swear, scream, and hit the wall until her fists are bloody and she can’t feel anything.” Everybody tensed up. “Ask me how I know.” Silence stretched. Pixis was now staring straight at Victoria, Nile had focused his attention on the cup again. Erwin was still smiling. “That’s not the problem, however. The problem is that you’ve lost _the damn queen of the walls_. Look at yourselves. The four most powerful men, ruling over what’s left of humanity, unable to ascertain the whereabouts of the last person of royal blood. Impressive.”

Zackly felt his anger stir. Yes, they were the most powerful here. She didn’t have any right to come and provoke them this way. She was nothing, held no authority. “Victoria, I have been very generous with you and your irreverence, but I cannot tolerate –”

“Don’t finish this sentence, Darius,” she interrupted him, her voice a mere whisper. His jaw clenched. The nerve of this woman…

“Miss Feuerbach, get to your point or I will have you arrested and court martialled.”

“As I am not a soldier, this seems hardly doable, but I can tell you’re irritated, so yes, I will make my point and leave you to it. Not only was it extremely insensitive to question those kids after what they’ve been through – but that’s how the military works, isn’t it – but did you even stop to consider what it might look like from the outside? The population just saw their newly discovered queen be brought in for interrogation like a war criminal.” There was a pause. “You were so busy trying to figure out what her family had done wrong that you forgot how to do things properly yourself. How do you propose to quell the rumours already travelling throughout the district?”

A feeling of unease crept up Zackly’s spine. How could they have been so careless? “Rumours? What rumours?”

“That the queen is a puppet for the military, that she will be manipulated by the commanders and won’t have any power of decision… This sort of thing.” Again, Victoria paused. “Which I know is true. You’re not fooling _me_. But you could have at least made an effort to fool the people who are supposed to obey her. And you, consequently.”

Zackly felt stupid. He knew she was right but the worse part was that he should have thought of it himself. Blinded by this new power, he had forgotten the lessons he himself had taught Victoria. And now she was here, schooling him on basic image management like a neophyte, an inexperienced youngster taking his first steps in the world of politics. And she _knew_ she’d made him feel like an idiot, he could see it in her eyes. He refused to admit it, however. Not to her. Not in front of the others. “How did you even get to hear those… opinions?”

“The garrison captain. He lives with his sister, Candice, who keeps house for him. A wonderful woman, Candice, so insightful. Did you know she tried her hand at dancing, not so long ago? If not for her dedication to her brother, perhaps we would have toured together.” She flashed a bright smile at nobody in particular. “Anyway, she’s my friend now, she opened a room in her house for me, offered me proper clothes. Delightful person, and talkative. So much so that not only does she know every piece of gossip in the city, she creates most of it. Did you know, for example, that she’s heard you’re not even planning a proper coronation ceremony? It seems the queen will receive her crown and sceptre out of the public’s eye. Not even the ones who matter most in Mitras will be allowed to attend! How scandalous, and isn’t it suspicious, too? Who knows what happens behind closed doors…” Her voice trailed off.

Nile straightened up and his eyes shot daggers at Victoria. “But… that’s not true! We haven’t even started talking about a coronation ceremony!”

Victoria sighed. “It doesn’t matter if it’s true, when it’s what people believe.” Nile stared down at the cup once again, looking like he’d bitten into a lemon.

Erwin cleared his throat. “You’ve presented us with a new problem to add to our list. I imagine you have a solution, too, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Zackly let out a joyless laugh. “Oh, I know what the solution is. Letting her handle it.” Victoria smiled.

“Letting her handle what?” Nile asked.

“Historia’s image. Public relations.”

“Don’t we have journalists for that? Hange went out of her way to get them on our side.”

“Journalists deal in facts, Erwin. I do the window dressing. All of the attributes Historia has make her both extremely popular and liable to mistrust. She’s young, inexperienced, pretty, and a woman. Everything she does will be scrutinized, her words taken apart, her clothes, the way she does her hair, the people she spends time with. It doesn’t matter how many nobles you send to rot in jail, there will always be new people to criticize and attack someone like our queen. She has no idea of what’s awaiting her.”

“And you do?” It was the only question Pixis had asked her; the only words he had spoken since Victoria had walked in.

“Been surviving off of it since I was seventeen.” Zackly spotted the shadow in Victoria’s eyes, a split second of darkness that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. It wasn’t a bad idea after all. But committing to it then and there seemed reckless, who knew what Victoria had in mind? She could very easily turn the young queen against him, out of spite, as revenge, or just because she wanted to.

“Here’s my offer,” he said eventually. “You stay with the queen and run the show until the coronation ceremony. If it goes well, if the queen is amenable, and if you still want it, we will discuss more permanent duties.” Victoria pouted, then nodded agreement. “Gentlemen, is this satisfactory?”

Nile grunted his approval. Dot Pixis tilted his head, pulled out his flask, took a sip, then looked at Zackly. “If you’re positive she isn’t going to betray us, then I don’t care.”

Erwin rubbed his chin with his hand. “Levi trusts her. That’s good enough for me.”

Zackly couldn’t tell if he’d made the best decision or the greatest mistake of his life. But that was on par with what he would have to live through for the following years. “Then it’s settled. Now please, Victoria, we have a lot left to do.”

The young woman got up, tucked a strand of hair behind her left ear, and smiled. “Of course. Thank you for your time. Should I let Mikasa in next? Please be gentle, she gets those terrible headaches, poor thing.”

And on her way she was, without waiting for an answer, leaving the door wide open behind her.

Pixis let out a laugh. “You told me she was something, Darius, but that’s on another level. I can’t even tell if I like her or not!”

Zackly nodded, feeling even more exhausted than before. It was the Victoria he used to know, the one who could focus on herself and her antics the attention of everyone in a room, the woman who knew how to alter her words and bearings to suit whatever audience she had at her feet then turn around and stab someone exactly where it would reach a vital organ. He didn’t know what had happened since she’d left for the Reiss estate, but she was finally back, in all her glory. For better or for worse, she had chosen Queen Historia’s side.

\---

Levi was sitting on the ground, on the very edge of the gash left by the crawling titan, both legs swinging in the precipice. He had been staring at a bloodstain for – he didn’t remember how long. In his pocket, the weight of the small and powerful case; on his mind, the weight of his last conversation.

Images from his past kept whirling before his eyes. The first time he’d seen Kenny, the first time he’d held a knife, the first time he’d killed a man… Washed-out, ossified memories of all those years spent merely surviving, memories of blood and violence that would pull him down if he let them.

He had a name, after all; a family name, a history of some sort to cling to, if he decided to look into it.

Levi Ackerman.

His mother’s brother. A name that carried so much shame, it seemed, that his own mother had refused to pass it on. He recalled how he eyes used to shine when she spoke to him and called him precious, when she still had strength to do so, before she’d had to close them forever. A flash of grey. And then, the cold.

_What’s your name, eh?_

_Just Levi._

If he had known before, would his life have been any different? If he hadn’t been left alone that day, alone facing the corpse of the man he’d just butchered, if his – his – uncle – had decided to stay a little longer and tell him the truth, what would have changed? After this moment, he had always made sure to be in control, always made the choices himself, however hard, however terrible they turned out to be. But this… someone else had chosen for him, had decided to keep him ignorant. Would knowing his name have changed Erwin’s decision?

His thoughts converged on the red stain.

The ravaged countryside vanished and before his eyes more scenes came back to life, or rather glimpse of them, impressions, a burst of laughter, his first taste of tea, the colour of Isabel’s hair and the sound of Eld’s voice. His shoulders slumped and he abandoned any attempt to try and resist the pull. His memory was a graveyard, rows and rows of headstones getting more withered every time a new one appeared, and it was becoming harder to come back from the past. He forced himself to look forward, think of their victory instead, grasp the flicker of hope, that warm beacon he both feared and longed for, the feeling he had learnt to lock deep within himself lest its light grew dim from overuse. The carefully renewed hope that all of the deaths hadn’t been for nothing, that there _were_ brighter days ahead, that if he just kept going, kept lending his strength to this purpose, this quest for freedom, he would get to see it accomplished; even if he only caught a glimpse of success.

He couldn’t warm his spirit too long at this flame, he knew, for he risked needing more and more of this terrible drug and he’d forget how cruel the world was.

He couldn’t afford to forget. He did not want to forget.

The sound of hooves in the distance snapped him out of his train of thoughts. That idiot boy had probably realized he’d left with all the horses, including the one belonging to his captain. The wind was blowing down, and he smelled the horse, the leather, and… something else. Something flowery. Lilac, specifically. That was _not_ the young scout.

The hooves stopped, then he heard a jump, and light footsteps. Not many people could be that silent.

“Hey,” Victoria said from behind him. He didn’t turn around and didn’t greet her. He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to her. He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to anyone, but Victoria? He already felt raw and exposed, and her presence would only make it worse. “Admiring the view?” she asked.

Her voice was soft, as if she was afraid her words would disturb the quiet of the evening.

“What are you doing here?” he asked back, casting her the contemptuous side glance he knew made most people shiver in fear.

Victoria sat on the ground next to him, unfazed. He should have known that this wasn’t going to work on her; it hadn’t done anything the first ten times he’d tried, why would she react any differently now? “It’s getting close to sunset, and this idiot kid only realized he’d come back with your horse, leaving you stranded here, about an hour after he made it to the barracks and had cleaned, fed and put the horse in her stable. Figured you wouldn’t want to walk.”

He turned his head to observe her, and she looked back. He wasn’t sure which Victoria it was, but she had erased all traces of the battle from her face. Gone was the fragile, trembling wisp of a woman he’d had to catch that very morning. He felt his breathing shorten as he recalled her hair brushing his chin when she’d rested her head on his shoulder; he chased the sensation away, unsure whether it belonged in the hope territory or the despair one. It was unlikely to ever happen again, considering the quiet, steady confidence she now radiated.

“You’re covered in blood,” she said.

Damn it; he knew he had done a sloppy job, with only half a handkerchief available to clean himself. “Not mine,” he said. Hopefully she wasn’t going to make a fuss. She considered him for a couple seconds, then got up, rummaged in her saddlebag, and came back with a flask of what he hoped was water. She unfastened the white scarf from around her neck.

She knelt next to him. “May I?” she asked, holding the flask up. He nodded imperceptibly. She dabbed the cloth on his face in delicate moves; it was silk. How had she obtained a silk scarf? He frowned, trying to determine if she could have stolen it. He wasn’t too sure why he was letting her, he could have done it himself if she’d given him the cloth. Then he felt the tip of her finger trace his jaw, pressing gently on his chin to make him turn his head, sending shivers down his spine. He counted to ten, then allowed himself to look at her again. Her dark eyes were darting from his forehead to his chin to his ears. She blinked, and an eyelash fell onto her cheekbone. “Indeed, no visible injury.” She pursed her lips. “Better?” Of course it was better, not being covered in the blood coughed up by his only family member as he was giving his last breath. If she expected him to thank her, she was in for a long wait. His frown deepened; why was he so irritated all of a sudden? He cast the hardest glance he could muster at her, so she would back off.

She showed no reaction other than carefully folding the scarf, so he went back to staring at the hole under their feet. The contemplation had lost its interest. Victoria wasn’t saying anything, but he was acutely aware of her presence and of the lingering sensation of her finger on his face. He cursed himself for allowing it in the first place; she had caught him vulnerable and taken advantage of it. For what purpose exactly he couldn’t tell, but there was probably an ulterior motive of some sort and he had let himself be trapped.

He buried himself in silence. Experience had told him that people didn’t like it when he remained silent for too long, he’d heard saying it was ‘unnerving’. Said people always ended up trying to strike up conversation, and after a few unsuccessful attempts, they’d leave. Eventually, Victoria would do the same; she’d leave without him having to specifically _tell_ her to leave.

But Victoria didn’t even indicate she wanted to have a conversation. She was contemplating the sky, her breathing calm and even, evidently satisfied with sitting there next to him, a faint smile on her lips. Eventually, he was the one to say something. “Why have you come?” he asked again, trying to sound rough.

“I suppose that since you’ve already asked a very similar question, you expect a different, or more detailed answer. We realized you were all alone here without means to ride back. Nobody else was going to come. Erwin was busy, Hange is examining pieces of titan, none of the kids would dare, and the boy who took your horse is contemplating desertion as we speak.”

She wasn’t wrong. “It was a mistake. I had told him to leave me alone with – to leave me alone. I’ll be indulgent, even if he’s an idiot.”

“Oh don’t worry, he won’t do something like that ever again. Might do something else, though, he seemed rather… slow-witted. Poor thing,” she added, shaking her head.

He almost smiled. “I could have walked,” he said.

“Also,” she continued, ignoring his input, “I don’t think it’s the best moment to leave you alone at the edge of a precipice. Call it intuition. I have no idea what happened, and I don’t want to know. But you were there with me the last time I sat alone above a void, so, you know.” She waved her hand. “Reciprocity and shit.”

The almost smile morphed into an urge to laugh. It spread like wildfire from his stomach all the way to his throat, a bright shot of sudden mirth that illuminated him from inside out. It felt warm and improper and irresistible. He side glanced at Victoria to see that she had a little twinkle in her eye. He refrained his hilarity. If he did laugh, if she _made him_ laugh, she would have won, and she couldn’t win. Won what, and why she had to lose, again he wasn’t sure. It just couldn’t happen. “Don’t expect a thank you from me,” he said instead.

“No, I expect you to get on this horse and ride to the city with me, so I can get back to the shit ton of stuff I have to do.”

Then why had she come, if she had so much to do? Why bother? It’s not like he wanted her here, or needed her. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your important duties.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she replied, waving his sarcasm away with her tiny hand. “Talking to Historia, you know, the child who just killed her father and you threatened into stepping up for a role she’s very much unprepared for; plan a coronation party, because if I leave it to you guys in boots, we’d have a crown, a couple potatoes, probably beer, but I wouldn’t even count on that. And also, figure out exactly how much drugs I have to take to not turn into a murdering freak. Really. Piece of cake.”

He stared straight at her; the bright feeling from before had disappeared, leaving him cold and unsettled. She was smiling widely, her face, her entire attitude contradicting the severity of her voice. He gave up; he didn’t understand how she worked, what made her act the way she did, why her face didn’t match her words. And trying to figure her out consumed too much energy, was too distracting. A little voice whispered that a distraction could be a good idea, and he silenced it. He had already decided not to entertain this thought.

“Again, I can walk. You can leave me.”

“No.”

He had tried being menacing, he had tried being rude, he had tried suggesting. “Why do you insist on not doing what you’re told?”

“Because I don’t have to do anything you tell me, _Captain_.” He shivered, trying to sort out the conflicting feelings swelling inside him. He wanted to laugh, yell at her, make her shut up, send her to hell, feel her hands on him again, all at the same time and it made no sense. He was feeling hot, and agitated. _He never, ever, felt agitated._ “I know that face. It’s the one you make when you’re wondering whether you should beat someone to a pulp.”

Her words sobered him up. If she could read _emotion_ on him, he was too close to snapping. He slammed a heavy lid of control over his feelings. _All of them_. “I couldn’t.”

“Sure you could.”

“Of course not; your… defences. You’d turn.”

She laughed lightly. “Oh no. Not with you. You see, she works with experience. You’ve been threatening to me exactly twice, both in situations where I could have regained control, but you’ve saved me more than that. She knows. She remembers. V knows you are not a threat.”

She was indeed looking at him without an ounce of fear, not even a little bit of caution, to make sure he wasn’t preparing to attack. It was odd, to have someone else than Erwin or Hange look at him like that. “And yet you test my patience.”

“You don’t have patience for me, there’s nothing to test.” He didn’t answer. “I found out what they did to me, you know,” she continued. “What I did to myself, really; I wanted to be powerful, and it got me years of guilt and fear. Guilt I can’t really do anything about, but fear? I’m done with it. I used to be fearless, and I’ve decided to never be afraid again, not of titans, not of men, not of the devil inside me. And when I’m not afraid, I don’t need V to fight. Or perhaps it’s just the drugs speaking, who knows.” He felt his eyes widen. She laughed. “It makes sense, I swear. Ah, to feel like myself again,” she concluded, lifting her eyes towards the sky again.

Feel like herself? He didn’t know how to react to this statement so he didn’t move an inch, and she fell silent again, as if she didn’t care what he said or did. After a minute she started humming a tune, eyes closed, her foot lilting gently as she kept the beat.

He watched her from the corner of his eye. She was resting on her elbow, chin pointed to the reddening skies, one leg folded up. She wore expensive riding boots, with sturdy yet ornate spurs. Not standard issue in the military. In the boots were tucked her uniform trousers, with a faded stain of blood that hadn’t washed away properly. On her back, a thick, woollen jacket that could have belonged to someone from the nobility, deep blue and luxurious, a garment fit for a rich woman’s travelling suit. It looked like she’d been in the middle of dressing for court when she had decided to go for a sudden ride. She wore the collar of the coat propped up on her neck, and the hem reached quite low on her leg, but not low enough to cover the knife strapped at her thigh. She hadn’t buttoned it closed, and underneath the coat was a crumpled blouse of light, delicate fabric, low cut at the front; under the collar he thought he could see a piece of embroidered chemise poking out. Her hair was half done, brown curls set ablaze by the sunset tumbling on her shoulders.

The bright and irresistible sensation spread inside him again. He couldn’t make himself stop looking at her. Even when she turned her head and she held his gaze, even when he thought he felt his cheeks get warm and realized his heart was racing, even if he knew that it was a terrible, terrible mistake to allow it. Perhaps just this once, just for a little while, he could enjoy the feeling. He would smother it in a minute. It couldn’t be _that_ hard to destroy.

Victoria smiled. “Are you ready to go back yet? We can’t stay here all night.”

It didn’t sound like the worst idea. As long as they were here alone together, he didn’t have to answer questions or talk about what had happened. He realized his gaze had travelled back to her exposed collarbone, and he diverted his eyes. “Again, you can leave if you want,” he said. There. Squashed. The feeling was no more. He heard her take a short breath; she got up and brushed dust from her clothes. The sun was already disappearing into the horizon, and the world was turning dark.

“Look, I really don’t want to leave you here, but you’ve saved my life in more ways than you can imagine, so I will grant you one order that I’ll obey no questions asked. If you want to use it to make me leave you alone, say so. I’ll go back and you will never hear from me again. Promise. However, if you believe you can tolerate my presence for a bit and think that perhaps, one day in the future, there will be one order that you really want me to follow, then save it. Take my hand, come with me, and we can ride away from this desolate place together.”

His mouth fell open, and he closed it promptly. There was no cunning on her face as she looked down towards him, only a slight smile. He thought about the worst that could happen if he took this hand, this deceptively small and delicate hand, with long fingers and nails impeccably trimmed and polished.

A bird trilled, joined by others. Nightingales, dozens of them perched in the nearby trees, were waking up, greeting each other as the rest of the world was about to sleep.

One order. One word, and she would leave and he’d never hear from her again. He would come back from this place and she would be gone. He’d go on missions with Erwin, meet with the queen, prepare for the battles to come, and she’d live her life, a life he would know nothing about. They’d run into each other at the handful of official functions he’d accept to attend, and she’d tilt her head with a smile as he’d walk past her. He only had one order to give, the only one she’d follow from him. And he would never hear from her again.

There were already enough people he would never heard from again.

He held out his own hand and took the one Victoria had extended. She pulled him up, the smile widening on her lips. Small wrinkles formed at the corner of her eyes. She kept his hand into hers for half a minute, looking like she was pondering words that she kept to herself. He could feel her warmth, smell the flowery scent in her hair, and remembered every single time he had touched her, all at once. He breathed out, very slowly, and counted to ten. It was attraction; it was all a matter of self-control. Like he controlled hope, and despair, and all the others.

She let go of his hand to whistle for the horses and he shivered.

“Help me get a leg up, will you?” she asked. “Everything hurts, and now’s not the time for me to fall.”

In a daze, he held her as she hoisted herself up, and out of nowhere, a thought popped inside his mind, an obvious, self-evident truth that manifested itself too suddenly to get it under control.

He would _never_ let her fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone leaving kudos and comments! You're so great!


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